How to Seduce a Fossil
by Mali Bear's Buddy
Summary: Black Widow decides to take Captain America's love life by the shield... but the Russian super-spy may be in over her head because Steve Rogers isn't her usual mark. - "Who do you want me to be?" Starts in Winter Soldier and will move beyond. Steve/Natasha
1. Chapter 1: Kiss of the Spiderwoman

**Author Note: **Takes place during/after _Captain America: The Winter Soldier._

**Disclaimer: **No copyright infringement intended. Unbetaed, all mistakes are mine.

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Chapter One: Kiss of the Spiderwoman

_"You must remember this: A kiss is just a kiss…" - As Time Goes By_

Being a female spy is an art form. A man can overpower with strength, he can knock you down or push you over and take the advantage. A woman, on the other hand, is often greatly underestimated. She can be cunning and fierce, capable of bringing down opponents with a very different set of skills. It takes a special girl with a lot of guts and limited conscience to do what Natasha Romanoff does.

Captain America is the original super soldier. His passion for truth and non-violent temperament are the stuffs legends are made of. But in the situation they are faced with now, disguise doesn't matter. He's a sitting as surely as if he were wearing his uniform.

The Black Widow is a deadly honey trap. She's seduced men for intel and left them to bleed out when she's gotten what she wanted. No stopping to consider casualties or fallout, no regrets. She isn't afraid to play dirty and knows how to blend in and make an escape afterwards.

He belongs on the battlefield. Since they are on her turf, he'll have to play by her rules. She's calling the shots on this little mall mission whether he likes it or not.

While Steve Rogers is used to handling things with brawn and a shiny disk made of rare metal, Natasha Romanoff has a different way of getting to the heart of the matter. She's not afraid to use force, but she's also not afraid to use her feminine wiles. It's with the sweet tricks that _she_ will get them out of here even as _he_ obsessed over military strategy and combat tactics. _Men_. Dare she say it? _Old men_. She knows 'protecting' her is just part of his code, but she's perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

She sees the team leader first. Steve's eyes are higher as he keeps watch, eyeing the overhead levels top down. Turning to him she demands, "Kiss me."

"Wha…?" _Confusion. Priceless_. _There was training and there was _training_._ She's about to school Captain America on how to lay low.

"Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable," she says cooly. Her mind is on the rapidly approaching agent. His focus is on her, he stares with his mouth slightly agape in shock. That's dangerous. It could get them both caught.

"Yes they do," he murmurs half under his breath.

_Now is not the time to argue with me, Rogers,_ she thinks. _Nor is it the time to be old fashioned. _She rolls her eyes in frustration before placing her hands on his shoulders and dragging his lips down to hers.

He's rigid, which is no fun because she's used to the sweet submission of a lover's mouth without having to work too hard for it. She can practically feel his eyebrows shoot to his hairline in surprise at the gesture. She needs him to engage or their cover may be blown. Just for the hell of it she skims her tongue along the seam of his lips and he settles enough his hands find her waist and he sort of hums against her bee stung lips.

Then it's over and she pulls away. He fumbles a little, but she shows no sign of impact. Her breathing is steady as she asks, "Still uncomfortable?"

"Not exactly the word I'd use…" If he wasn't stiff before, he certainly is now. Her lips twitch slightly as he shakes his leg a little at the bottom of the escalator before ambling after her to the parking deck.

\- - - Captain America - - -

"Where did Captain America learn how to steal a car?" she asks as they enter New Jersey, the truck clinging to the pavement the way his hand holds tightly to the steering wheel.

"Nazi Germany," he answers, glaring across the seat at her before scolding. "And we're borrowing. Take your feet off the dash."

With a slight smirk, she moves her feet to the floor. Bossy Steve is kinda hot, though there's a sternness to his voice that plucks at the nerve of her daddy issues. She can only imagine what that silky command of it would be like in bed.

She gets a look, one he notices from the corner of his eye. He knows things are about to get worse before she even opens her mouth. And he's right.

"Alright, I have a question for you," Natasha prods. "Of which you do not have to answer… but I feel like if you don't answer, you're answering, you know?"

The pop of her gum is annoying, it makes him tense. There isn't much about Natasha Romanoff that doesn't make him tense - her penchant for secrets and willingness to break the rules only part of a laundry list of complications - but, now, at this moment, the fact that he can still taste said gum in his mouth only serves to increase his discomfort.

"What?" he cuts her off gruffly.

She finds this amusing, ruffling the normally stoic Captain's feathers. Messy. She enjoys a good mess, particularly when it comes to sex. So she lays it on him with a saucy smile. "Was that your first kiss since 1945?"

Steve is clearly _not_ as amused. He groans, shaking his head ever so slightly. "That bad, huh?"

Oh, this was good. It almost made it worth being stuck shotgun in a vehicle with a man who refuses to drive like they stole it. Speed. She needs speed and to get to the next part rather than be stuck in limbo. She lets a hint of laughter enter her reply. "I didn't say that."

He tries to smile and keep his shit together. It is sorta funny, in an awkward_ 'Are we really having this discussion?'_ kind of way. "Well, it kinda sounds like that's what you're saying."

"No. I didn't…" Damn. Now she's the one feeling flustered. He's like a lost puppy and she feels like she's just given him a good, swift kick. She searches for the right words before settling on what she hopes is the least offensive response. "I just wondered how much practice you've had."

He scoffs and she's sure she sees a blush creeping up his neck. "You don't need practice."

"Everybody needs practice," she tells him nonchalantly.

She finally gets the answer she's looking for when his posture changes. "It was _not_ my first kiss since 1945. I'm 95, I'm not dead."

It was and they both know it, but she doesn't call him on it. Instead, she pushes a different button. "Nobody special then?"

He chuckles awkwardly. "Believe it or not, it's kinda hard to find someone with shared life experience."

The spy in her kicks in, the part that creates the perfect cover for whatever situation life throws at her. It's that part that lead her to claim the soft pillows of his lips at the mall. "It's alright. You just make something up."

"What, like you?" his blue eyes flicker with something that makes her a little crazy. Truth is black and white to him, to her it's more gray areas and little nooks to escape obstacles.

So she says, "I don't know. Truth is a matter of circumstance. It's not all things to all people all of the time." Her lips twitch. "And neither am I."

"It's a tough way to live," he says, taking a quick look at her before focusing on the road ahead again.

"It's a good way not to die though," she replies wistfully. Talk about buzzkill. The playfulness of the conversation has faded away and their talk has become more serious.

"You know it's kinda hard to trust someone when you don't know who that someone is." His voice strong and doesn't waver. It cuts in a way she'd never admit.

Truth. He always has to have the truth. He doesn't know any better, but she'll show him.

And that's how it started, how the Black Widow decided to take Captain America's love life by the shield and show him how to live a life more extraordinary. A life that's messy and full of promise, truth be damned. She seizes the moment, batting her eyes at him and asking sweetly, "Who do you want me to be?"


	2. Chapter 2: Everybody Needs Practice

**Author Note: **Takes place during/after _Captain America: The Winter Soldier._

**Disclaimer: **No copyright infringement intended. Unbetaed, all mistakes are mine.

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Chapter Two: Everybody Needs Practice

It was odd asking Sam for help. Not because Steve didn't believe he could trust Sam, but because of the way Sam's eyes flicked from him to Natasha and back again. No, Sam could be trusted. It just might be weird later, uncomfortable when he had to explain the redhead's presence.

Thankfully Sam acts like it's no big deal. He doesn't ask questions upfront, just sets them up with towels and an opportunity to get cleaned up. Steve couldn't have anticipated what would happen once his running buddy left them alone.

He catches Nat's eyes in the bathroom mirror. Black Widow sits on the end of the bed drying her hair with a towel. Looking less like the deadly assassin she is and more like a scared young girl, overwhelmed and confused, she doesn't attempt to hide from him.

Steve is grateful for this, grateful they've finally achieved what he knows to be imperative: trust. Drying his hands his skin still stained and dirty, he looks upon her with concern. "You okay?"

Natasha gives an imperceptible nod and answers simply, "Yeah."

Steve isn't convinced. Tossing his towel down, he approaches her with caution. He doesn't know much about women, but he has a feeling in her vulnerable state Natasha may be even more deadly than normal. Sitting in front of her carefully lowering himself to her level, he looks directly into her eyes with concern. "What's going on?"

Natasha fidgets with the towel for a bit before dropping her hands to her lap. Her instincts tell her not to look at him - that doing so would mean putting the hurt she's feeling on display and risking getting hurt - but the purity of his baby blue eyes makes her surrender. Thank God they're on the same side because she's sure there aren't many secrets he couldn't get her to spill the way he's looking at her now.

"When I first joined SHIELD, I thought I was going straight." It takes effort not to sweep his hair off his forehead, not to touch him the way he touches her with his eyes. He's not her mark. She knows touching him would be for her own comfort. She's Black Widow. Cold and unfeeling, trained to act without conscience; however, faced with America's golden boy she finds she's incapable of not feeling.

Steve Rogers is the embodiment of what she thought SHIELD was. It should scare her, send her running as far and as fast as she can because she's never quite felt like she belonged. But it doesn't. She continues her confession.

"But I guess I just traded in the KGB for HYDRA. I thought I knew whose lies I was telling, but..." She looks sad, broken as she tries to keep the emotion from her voice. "I guess I can't tell the difference anymore."

Steve doesn't miss a beat. He's reassuring, his grin doing things it shouldn't. "There's a chance you might be in the wrong business."

Natasha smiles back despite herself and huffs an almost laugh. Their eyes meet and hold. Even dirty, he's handsome. His chiseled jaw and broad chest are strong and masculine, powerful. And there's something in the way he looks at her then makes her ache. Maybe it's that he can see past all her lies to the person she could be.

"I owe you," she murmurs as she leans in. The hint of his cologne invades her senses even though it's hidden in the rubble of all they've been through in the last 24 hours. She's called him a fossil but he doesn't look or smell like one. A 95 year old man should have loose skin and wrinkles, he should smell like Bengay. Captain America is definitely not an old man. Old fashioned maybe, but he appears no older than she is.

Steve snaps her out of the thought by mumbling, "It's okay."

Gaining strength, her voice grows steady as she takes back control. "If it was the other way around, and it was down to me to save your life, and you be honest with me, would you trust me to do it?"

"I would now." His smile is boyish and it tickles her as surely as a feather brushing her skin would've. "And I'm always honest."

"Steve?" she catches her lip beneath her teeth and wishes she were the girl she sees reflected in his eyes. She made up her mind in the car. No more trying to fix him up. She would do it herself.

"Yeah, Nat?" his lips twitch. This is nice, normal. It's more what friends and partners do.

Only it isn't. At all. "I'd apologize for teasing you earlier, but…"

His brows furrow slightly and she lets the towel slip from her lap to the floor between them before her hands cup his neck and she draws him close. Steve feels her breath in the moment before her bee stung lips press against his. He knows it's hers and not his own because the air catches in his lungs and he forgets how to exhale.

This isn't 1945. He's less experienced and feels the need to prove himself. Taking a chance, he lets chivalry be damned and cups her face as her mouth moves beneath his. She's soft and has a candied sweetness. It feels right despite the fact he's not quite sure where to put his hands.

Natasha knows he could stop her. She also knows when he touches her that he needs it - this, her - as much as she does. Experimenting she delicately brushes his lips with the tip of her tongue, taking the advantage when his mouth opens in surprise.

They part seconds later on ragged breath and she pulls back but not away. Her eyes flutter open and she gives him an innocent expression, "Practice makes…"

But he doesn't let her finish. With a groan Steve tugs her back to the warm circle of his embrace, causing her to stumble against the breadth of his chest. Firm yet incredibly tender, his lips descend and devour. His tongue makes a shy pass that she rewards with a moan.

Fingers tangling in his hair, she opens her mouth to him and deepens the kiss. His arms snake around her and he mimics her movements. Deep, wet and hungry, it's unlike anything he's experienced before and all he knows is that he wants more. His hands glide across the skin of her lower back where he shirt rides up.

"I've made breakfast if you…" Sam interrupts. Then he hears it, the clearing of a throat. He knows the sound because he made it interrupting Bucky with a girl more than once, but he's never…

Until now.

Sam chuckles, rubbing his neck. "Damn, Cap. My bad."

On instinct, Steve keeps Natasha tucked behind his large frame. He wipes his mouth and addresses his friend as he shields her from view with his body. "We'll be out in just a minute."

With a nod, Sam pushes off the doorframe and heads back to the kitchen. Steve isn't entirely sure what to do, how to handle it. All he knows is he wants to taste Natasha's mouth again. He links their fingers, diverting his eyes from hers with a blush. "So…"

Natasha laughs, the lyrical sound filling the room. She wants to say the right thing, but finds she's out of practice when it comes to niceties. Her hand flexes in his grip. "When this is all over, you owe me, Rogers."

He tilts his head and her smile pulls to the right corner of her mouth. Leaning in, she whispers a trail of kisses from the corner of his mouth to his ear. She's read his file. She knows about his conversation with Peggy Carter and the promise of a dance. She refuses to be cliché even as it appears history could, in a way, repeat itself.

His eyes close at the feel of Natasha's breath on his neck and the shell of his ear. The press of her body makes his heart pound. "Find me when you're ready for your next lesson, Captain."

And with that Natasha leaves a stunned Steve blinking and confused in her wake. She may not be the right girl, but she has skills she could impart to teach him to hold onto her when he found her. Until then, she'd enjoy Captain America while she could. Because everyone needs practice.

Even Black Widow.


	3. Chapter 3: Winter is Coming

Chapter Three: Winter is Coming

Death. It touches all of us, taking our loved ones sooner than we are ready to give them up. The day he buried his mother flashes through Steve's head like a home movie. He was shorter than Bucky then, his body lean and free from the weight of the muscle he carries now.

Steve should've felt relief seeing someone he knew who hadn't changed any more than he had. It also should've pleased him to learn Fury was alive. He was neither relieved nor pleased. If anything it just raised the level of tension he felt.

It hurt seeing the complete lack of recognition in his best friend's eyes. The pain running deeply and more acute than any blow delivered, he hadn't had a chance to reconcile it until discussions and plans for their attack were tabled. He doesn't have time for regret, but he carries it anyway.

He failed Bucky. He failed to protect the person who had kept him safe as a kid. It wasn't about who was smarter or better looking. It was about brotherhood. The man he faced earlier was not the boy who teased him about putting the couch cushions out or getting him dates. That boy was lost beneath the damage the man had suffered.

The number of times Bucky saved his ass, he should've been able to rescue his friend. Instead Bucky had become a weapon, an assassination tool, thanks to HYDRA. And Fury had known of HYDRA's infiltration into SHIELD and waited rather than trusting him to help. It made his blood boil. Worse still, he isn't quite sure whether to trust their little alliance to follow orders. He's got Natasha and Sam's loyalty, but Fury and Hill remain wild cards.

Sam joins Steve on the bridge, interrupting the Captain's painful flash of memory and self doubts. At first, he doesn't notice the other man's presence. He's too consumed with loss. Bucky had been like a brother and now his friend was in trouble.

"He's not the same guy you know," Sam says, breaking the quiet. "And from the look of things he's not the kind of guy you save, he's the kind you stop."

Steve leans against the railing and sighs. The other soldier's words aren't too far off from his own thoughts, but his version of stopping Bucky includes the man's salvation. To Steve the two aren't mutually exclusive. He turns the tables. "And if it were you in my place? If it was Riley, not Bucky?"

Sam's shoulders roll forward as he places his hands on the rail next to the Captain's elbow. "I'd hope I was strong enough to make the call," he says plainly, staring off into the horizon. "Sometimes there's no choice but to let go."

Steve shakes his head. He refuses to believe that. "There's always a choice. Bucky used to promise he'd be with me until the end of the line. It's my turn now."

"Fair enough," Sam says quietly. He shifts his weight and leans his hip against the rail, crossing his arms. Changing the subject was probably for the best. "So, you and Black Widow?"

Steve can't stop the color from rising to his face. Sure, he and Bucky talked about girls, but it was usually Bucky's latest flavor of the week not someone he was interested in himself. He'd always assumed someone like Natasha was well out of his league. He still feels that to be true. Tucking his tongue into the corner of his lips, he gives a cheeky answer. "This isn't 1945. It was a kiss. That's all."

Was it though? Natasha seemed to be making the same promise Peggy had years ago and he'd failed to come home. In her lucid moments - the ones where the fog of dementia lifted, however briefly - Peggy had assured him she'd lived a full life and encouraged him to do the same. This was a dangerous mission. Odds favored he or Natasha might not survive. And where did that leave him? Square one. Doomed to be alone. It didn't matter what promises or plans were made. He always seemed to end up in the same place: cold and alone.

Sam holds up his hands in defense and laughs. "Looked like more than a kiss, Cap. That's all I'm sayin'. Do we need to talk birds and bees?"

Less than amused, Steve shoves Sam even as he chuckles uncomfortably. "I'm 95, Sam. I think I can figure it out," he laughs and blushes. "If it got that far, which isn't to say she wants to or it will."

Relief seemed to be in short supply these days. He'd found more solace in the comfort of Natasha's mouth than he had since coming out of cryo. The small amount of peace did nothing to prepare him for the battle he was about to face. It did nothing to stop the fear that it could be the last time it ever happened.

\- - - Captain America - - -

Even though she had a bullet in her shoulder Natasha had felt an incredible level of relief when they'd learned Nick Fury was alive. She'd tempered that relief in the brief moments she'd shared with Steve. Discovering Bucky Barnes was the Winter Soldier had been a devastating blow for the Captain. It hurt her to see it happening but she couldn't compromise them both even further by reaching for him.

She wanted to. God, did she want to. And she could've, with her mouth and her body. But the time wasn't right.

Would it ever be right? She's asked herself that question over and over. What had she been thinking kissing him? She wasn't usually impulsive. Calculated, sure, but rarely impulsive.

Maybe the right move would've been distracting him if only for a night. She hadn't though. She'd stayed true to the words she'd uttered about him coming to her. Going to him was more than just compromising. It was showing weakness. She wasn't weak. Weak got you killed.

So she watched, followed. Ever the soldier and always prepared to put duty to country before his own feelings, Steve had taken charge. He'd done what he always did - made the best of the situation he'd been handed and attempted to minimize casualties. He had managed to stop HYDRA and destroy Project Insight.

She hadn't gotten any time alone with him between their discussions and enacting Steve's plan. Truthfully she felt guilty for not being the one to have his back. Steve trusted Sam and that had to be good enough. No arguments.

Natasha isn't sure what is more daring: blowing her covers by spilling SHIELD's secrets onto the web or the electric shock she takes destroying the name tag. Life is pain. The pain she's used to, at times she's even welcomed it.

Steve Rogers notwithstanding, there isn't a lot of "good" or "right" in this business. It takes less than three seconds to make the decision. She owes Steve so much more than she's giving up. Which was what made the events that followed painful in a way she'd never experienced.

\- - - Captain America - - -

The normally stoic Agent Hill's emotional account of how she wasn't sure Captain America made it out had spurned a full on manhunt for Steve's body. Natasha hated Sam for being the one who found him. It shouldn't matter who, just that they got there in time. But it does. Steve saved her and it was her turn to return the favor.

"How is he?" Voice shy and small, she eyes the mountain of muscle that fills the hospital bed but addresses the man sitting next to it.

Sam closes his magazine and watches Natasha hover in the doorway. The female agent's posture is rigid as she tucks her hair behind her ear. She looks uncomfortable. "Besides damn near indestructible?" he laughs, biting back a smile. "Dude fell from a helicarrier and they had to re-break his ribs to set them in surgery."

The fall would've killed anyone else, but the serum enhanced everything from his body's ability to repair itself to his sheer determination not to be beaten. He's a far cry from the skinny Brooklyn born kid who failed to be drafted. She smiles softly. Partner. Her partner would be alright. Only he wasn't her partner anymore.

"Nat? Natasha? Did you hear me?" Sam laughs, catching her off guard. "I said they got the bullet. It was clean. No serious damage."

"Good," she says with a nod, pushing her thoughts to the back of her mind. Compartmentalization was impossible. "That's good. I'm glad he's okay."

Sensing she's on the brink of fight or flight, Sam rolls up his magazine and tucks it into the back pocket of his jeans. "Sit with him while I get a cup of coffee? I don't wanna leave him alone while he's knocked out."

She nods, but doesn't move into the room until Sam's shoulder brushes hers. "Keep it up and I'll let Rogers know about your fan-boy moment."

Sam could've replied, ribbing her for the way she's mooned over the Captain in the brief time she's spent with him since they found him but he lets it go for his buddy's sake. He's got a feeling Steve will want Natasha there when he wakes up. So he leaves them alone for just that.

Natasha moves cautiously to the edge of the bed. There's something about this man that stirs things within her, things she's blocked out and avoided feeling. Her affair with Clint had been physical, a way to take the edge off and find sleep. Kissing Steve was like being struck by lightning.

Slowly, she slips her hand into his and bends to feather her lips across his forehead. The gesture is simple but the complexity of what it makes her feel is not. He's still here. Broken and bloodied, unconscious. But not dead.

"Rest," she murmurs in her mother tongue. The scared little girl she's kept buried is emerging, the part of herself she doesn't show. Safe. Steve is safe, safe in a way she's never known.

Blue eyes fly open and the hand she held is suddenly in her hair, pulling her mouth down to his in a bruising kiss. She submits willingly. Maybe he didn't need as much practice as she thought. His voice is a growl of a whisper, the tone one that makes her wonder if she existed before that moment. "Nat..."

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A/N: I've been distracted with life, but I'm still invested. This could go a couple of different ways and I'd love some feedback as to what you'd like to read. Ultimately for me it's a question of who Steve ends up with - Natasha, Sharon or possibly an OC. Thoughts?


	4. Chapter 4: It's a Date

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Captain America. I've just lovingly borrowed from the movies and put my own spin on it. No copyright infringement intended.

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Chapter 4: It's a Date

"Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

Natasha sighs as she places her hand on the bible to be sworn in. It's right that she's the one to do this, to set the record straight and be the one to stand up for what Steve almost gave his life to save. She wouldn't see him dishonored as a scapegoat for saving not only the asses in this room but those just like them across the globe. "I do."

She's barely in her seat before the General starts peppering her with questions. He leans forward and glares as he speaks. "Why haven't we yet heard from Captain Rogers?"

Of course he's demanding a briefing from the soldier rather than a woman. It's practically impossible to keep the snark from her voice as she crosses her arms and answers honestly. Well, as honestly as she can without admitting that she was the one who told Steve to stay away. "I don't know what there is left for him to say. I think the wreck in the middle of the Potomac made his point fairly eloquently."

The air in the room is thick with tension. The man sits back in his chair, elbows resting heavily on its arms. She's sure she's not going to like the words that are coming, but she uses her training to keep the emotions from showing. "Well, he could explain how this country how this country is expected to maintain its national security now that he and you have laid waste to our intelligence apparatus."

"HYDRA was selling you lies, not intelligence," Natasha answers simply, her eyes fixed on his.

"Many of which you seem to have had a personal hand in telling." Accusatory doesn't begin to describe his tone. If not for the man to his right cutting in, he may've come over the desk at her. So much for professionalism.

"Agent, you should know that there are some on this committee that feel given your service record," he points at her, "both for this country and against it that you belong in a penitentiary, not mouthing off on Capitol Hill."

Though he brow initially furrows in thought, a tight lipped smile finds her features. She delivers her words carefully. They aren't a threat, they're a statement of fact and she knows it. "You're not gonna put me in a prison. You're not gonna put any of us in a prison. You know why?"

"Do enlighten us," his tone is flat, humorless. He sounds exasperated.

"Because you need us." She pauses briefly, letting the words sink in even as the panels' faces fall in shock and frustrated anger. "Yes, the world is a vulnerable place and, yes, we helped make it that way. But we're also the ones best qualified to defend it. So, if you wanna arrest me, arrest me. You'll know where to find me."

She doesn't give them time to respond, nor does she answer the questions tossed at her as she makes her way out to the corvette waiting at the curb with a handsome soldier behind the wheel. "Drive."

Steve's lips curl in a saucy half smile and he hits the gas, the tires peeling as the car slides quickly away from the curb. "Yes, ma'am."

\- - - Captain America - - -

She's never let anyone into her personal space. Not even Clint. With Clint, it had been his place or a series of hotel rooms. She doesn't bring men home.

Or she didn't until they discharged him from the hospital. Steve Rogers is different. As she pushes through the door, Natasha feels the solid warmth of him behind her. He stands just close enough, but not so close they touch. It makes her ache in a way she shouldn't.

"I'm just going to…" she gestures to her room wanting a moment to get out of her skirt and heels, but he reaches for her.

"You okay?" Steve's fingers lace with Natasha's and his eyes swirl with concern. He hides nothing. She's sure he doesn't know how.

Forcing a smile, she tucks her hair behind her ear. He's spent two nights on her sofa but this is the first time he's touched her since the kiss they shared in his hospital room. It's electric. The tiny hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stand on end. "I'm good, I…"

"Nat, you don't have to hide from me." Pain would've been expected, but the words are little more than a gentle nudge. He tilts her chin up, his thumb tracing her jaw and eyes searching. It's enough to make her shiver. "Talk to me."

And say what? That she feels vulnerable and exposed? That she's thankful Steve's knowledge of computers and the internet is so limited that he doesn't know half of what she's done, what she's capable of?

"We should go out. Maybe get a drink somewhere." She pulls away, not shutting down but moving forward. She slips out of her jacket, carefully rolling her shoulders as she exposes the silky tank beneath it. The shift in his breathing is immediate. "It's about time you got that dance."

If she thought things at the senate had been tense, this was worse. Natasha pauses at the door to her bedroom long enough to see the frustration tightening Steve's shoulders beneath the thin cotton of his t-shirt. It makes her feel... guilty. Guilt is not something she's used to. It's unwelcome and she wants to fix it. Had she blown her chance by not owning up? Would crumbling into his muscular arms like a child's rag doll have been a bad thing? So many questions without answers. So many thoughts and feelings swirling and violating everything she was taught to believe.

There were a lot of lessons she could teach Steve, but it's the things he can teach her that could prove to be deadly. Faith. Hope. The belief in good winning out. And, dare she say it? Dare she admit the most terrifying bit to herself? Love.

\- - - Captain America - - -

Driving the getaway car was not something he'd done for a long time. He had thrown himself on a grenade in training. He had jumped from airplanes without a chute. He had fallen from a hellicarrier at a height that would've killed anyone else.

Steve Rogers wasn't good at sitting on the sidelines. That's how the _real_ Captain America - not the poster version who sold war bonds but the man who took on a daring rescue mission - was born. When Natasha had come to him and told him it wasn't worth appearing before the senate, to let her handle it, he wasn't sure what to think. He wasn't afraid to stand up to the generals and politicians and tell them they had almost unwittingly handed a weapon that could've done more damage than Hitler and the Nazis to HYDRA. But he had backed down. For her.

Fat lot of good that did him. He can read the anguish in her eyes and see beneath the mask she tries to hide behind. This cost her more than it would've cost him, even if she sees it the other way. That thought alone is enough to make him want to punch his way through the drywall in her living room. But he doesn't. He sits still as a statue and thinks about everything that's happened between them in the last week.

He's still sitting there when he feels her hands slide over his shoulders. They rub and massage in a way that makes his back arch and his eyes close. The noise he makes brings a flush of embarrassment to his cheeks and causes her fingers to stroke deeper, her thumbs smothering knots and taming them into submission. Gut instinct says to shake her off and not reward bad behavior, but it feels too good.

"Let me take you out," Natasha's voice is kitten soft and her perfume is intoxicating.

"Shouldn't I be the one making that offer?" he asks, knowing her answer before the question is completely out of his mouth.

Her laughter is lyrical, it bubbles out and tickles his eardrums unexpectedly. He wants to hear that sound again. "Come on, Cap. It's not the 40s anymore. Women ask men out all the time." Perching on the arm of the couch, she looks at him and her tongue moistens her plush lower lip. "If it makes you feel any better, we'll pretend it's Sadie Hawkins Day."

It's his turn to laugh. Finally, a pop culture reference he gets. "Since you put it that way, I guess it's a date."

* * *

A/N: Many thanks to **filipinaachick**, **Woman of Letters**, **CountryBoy1534**, and **RogerssEvanss** for their input. Waking up to an inbox full of inspiration always makes the day brighter and helps the words flow more freely from my fingertips onto the screen. This one's for you guys.


	5. Chapter 5: Beneath Your Beautiful

**A/N: **This chapter contains adult language and situations. I still think it's a T, but I may change the rating depending on later chapters.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Captain America_. I just enjoy playing with Marvel's toys... specifically one Steve Rogers.

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Chapter 5: Beneath Your Beautiful

_"You've built your wall so high that no one could climb it, but I'm gonna try."_ _\- Beneath Your Beautiful _

As first dates go, it isn't entirely awkward. Steve is the consummate gentleman. He helps her onto the back of his motorcycle and tugs her arm a little tighter around his waist at a stoplight, his fingers lingering over hers in a slow caress until it flashes green. In return, she drags him to her favorite hole in the wall nightclub.

Okay. So that part is awkward, but also amusing. Steve is overwhelmed by the sea of short skirts and groping hands. He's a good looking guy, _of course_ women want to touch him. Take out and a movie probably would've been the better option, especially given that this isn't the kind of dancing he'd have done with Peggy Carter. But Natasha couldn't help herself. Keeping him off balance is a part of the game, the conquest, the whatever the hell it is she's doing.

The music is throbbing. It makes her feel sexy. Natasha watches as Steve's eyes dart curiously but without judgement to the people around them. He drinks it in with cautious fascination. She's been to places like this with Tony Stark and in his pre-Pepper days Iron Man would be eating up the attention Captain America gets now.

"Put your tongue back in your mouth," she snaps at a girl who looks at Steve just a little too long and longingly. The soldier is clearly uncomfortable with how he's being undressed and eye fucked, which isn't at all surprising. What shocks her is the way it makes her feel. Possessive. Like she should quickly mark him as hers.

And she does. Sort of. Her palm skates up the front of his t-shirt and curls around his neck. She presses close, so close his eyes close and she's positive he thinks she's going to kiss him and break the tension, but that's not her plan. Instead she undulates, shifting her hips into his and moving with the music. She doesn't want to overplay her hand, not just yet.

\- - - Captain America - - -

Slow grind, tender ache. He may have been raised to be a gentleman, but that doesn't mean Steve doesn't quickly figure out where to put his hands. Observation and physical encouragement go a long way. The soft sounds that tickle his eardrums over the music because she's just _that_ close and the way her hands wander and stroke his chest, arms and shoulders, tell him Natasha thinks he's doing _something_ right even if he feels clumsy and out of place.

He might later confess it was uncomfortable at first, the physical closeness and the pulse of the music. It was odd and arousing having Natasha's curvy frame pressed to his, having people around them pushing them closer together. It was also thrilling. She knows just how to handle him and put him at ease while winding him up. His breath catches as her hand slips into the back pocket of his jeans and her nose trails along his jaw.

"I'm impressed," she says in that smoky tone of hers against his ear.

He can't stop the shiver that races along his spine. With Peggy, it had been butterflies; the sweet flutter of love. With Natasha, it's something else entirely. It's dark and wild, making his gut clench and his body want. The tone of his answer is almost a groan, "I was told I needed to learn to improvise."

It's not like he's an idiot. Inexperienced, yes, but he knows what sex is and what it means to be turned on. Being the object of desire - especially the object of Natasha's - is just as different as this modern style of dancing. The decision he makes fills the moment with the wonderment of Charles "Dazzy" Vance's off-the-table curveball, at least for him. She wouldn't catch the baseball reference.

His voice low as her breath continues to fan his ear, he tells her, "Maybe it's time for my next lesson."

\- - - Captain America - - -

The words that tumble recklessly from Steve's lips are jarring. Even more eye opening is the unwitting seduction in his tone. He has no idea what he's doing, what she already knows he's likely capable of just from the silky baritone of his words. If he was any other man and she was any other woman, they'd be in for a long night. One filled with sweat soaked sheets and little sleep.

She wants him, badly. That fact in and of itself alone is something she's still struggling to admit to herself, because this is supposed to be about helping him discover what he could have with the right girl and how to treat her. Instead it's making her crave him for herself in a way she hadn't counted on. Unwilling to let it show - because it's becoming impossible not to be the girl she was positive she lost to the life she's been living when they're together - she turns her back to him. Making it part of the dance, she shimmies slowly against his chest and rubs her backside against his groin with a purr of a moan. "You sure about that?"

She's playing cat and mouse trying to balance training with the person she didn't grow up to be. The problem is she underestimates him when she shouldn't. Steve's hands curl around her hips and he pulls her back against his body, but it's the way he skims her hair from her neck and brushes his lips against the uncovered skin in the perfect spot that makes her gasp for air.

"Let's get out of here," he hums over her skin and she swallows, hard. He shouldn't be able to do that, make her pulse race and her panties more than just damp. She shouldn't be this turned on by someone with so little experience. Exposed, she bites her lip and nods softly as her hand finds the back of his neck and cradles him to the spot she had no idea was such an erogenous zone until his mouth tripped over it.

Natasha Romanoff is in trouble. Steve Rogers has no idea what he's doing and yet hes' got her coming apart at the seams. The international honey trap turned Avenger isn't prepared for what's coming… and she's supposed to be the teacher.

What was it she told him? 'Everybody needs practice.' If Steve actually got practice, there would never be a dry seat in the house and women would spontaneously orgasm at his shy smile. Oh God. What had she gotten herself into?

\- - - Captain America - - -

The entire way back to her condo she was trying to come up with a way out of this. Getting him drunk wasn't an option, though that was the preferred method of getting out of sticky situations. There had been many times she had slipped a little something into a man's drink to incapacitate him so she could gain information.

Steve Rogers wasn't any man and he wasn't a mark. That's the part that's terrifying. She hasn't let anyone in, not even Clint. She's come to the very real conclusion that an affair with Steve couldn't be had in half measures. It would never be about getting their rocks off and burning adrenaline so they could achieve sleep. It would involve feelings and emotions. Is she really ready for that?

They bump into the wall just down the hall from her door and he covers her body with his broad frame, shielding her from the view of nosy neighbors. She doesn't care about being seen or getting caught but she knows it's a protective instinct. There's a difference between knowing someone has your back and feeling protected, cherished. The feeling is heady and lumps in her throat.

He hitches her right thigh up, his palm coasting along the back of her leg and forcing her up on her toes. She feels weightless, dizzy. "Steve?"

His mouth is as firm as the rest of him, though their kisses grow sloppy as he torments her with his tongue. He's an eager student, far from the shy guy who got embarrassed when she asked how much _action_ he'd seen since '45. She isn't at all ready for this and she knows with one word she could make him stop, but she's not willing to force it through her swollen lips on a ragged breath.

"Natasha," he murmurs so softly in answer you'd think her name was a prayer, that it was sacred. He kisses her and keeps kissing her until she realizes she has to take charge before something indecent happens mere feet from her door.

\- - - Captain America - - -

Steve feels the heat rising to his face as Natasha pushes him back. For a moment he thinks he's done something wrong and upset her with his lack of knowledge or experience. Then she slips her hand into his and heads toward the door.

It's almost like he has tunnel vision. They seem so close, yet so far away. Maybe this is wrong. Maybe he should call Sam and see if he can stay with his buddy tonight. His heart is beating too fast and his breathing is strained. He can run for miles without getting winded, but this? Her?

Inside, she leans against the door before slipping her jacket off. It falls heavily to the floor and he lets her push his off too, mesmerized by the way the dim light from the kitchen puddles in her eyes and makes them glow a catlike golden green. She draws him back in, her delicate fingers fisting in the white of his simple t-shirt and pulling him to her.

This kiss is different. It's hungry and lacks the vulnerability she showed him moments ago in the hallway. Something has changed. The pieces don't add up and he knows the walls that haven't been there since they were nearly trapped in SHIELD's New Jersey computer bunker are slipping into place.

"Don't," he whispers, shaking his head slightly and taking a step closer to her to crowd Natasha against the door and force her to look at him. A muscled forearm rests over her head and his hand greedily twists in her hair. He kisses her forehead and the tip of her nose before taking tender possession of her mouth in an elegant battle.

"Don't hide from me. You're safe, Nat," Steve's words are a quiet plea whispered in the stillness. The only other sound in the room is their breathing. His hand brushes beneath her tank to caress the scar put on her soft skin by his best friend. It's risky demanding intimacy from a woman who has killed men for less. He isn't afraid. "Let me see you. The real you."

* * *

**A/N:** Oops? It's been a while since I wrote a cliffy. While this is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine, I blame my friend Mel for saying, "Always go for the anticipation! I'm a sucker for that shit lol" and giving me the idea.

I wasn't sure how far to take this and I'm operating off three ideas of where this could go and ultimately end up. I'd love your thoughts on a possible rating change so I can gauge interest in whether to put it all in one place or make that a separate fic. A **BIG** thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited or followed so far, I truly appreciate the support!


	6. Chapter 6: About Last Night…

**A/N:** Many thanks to all who've commented, favorited and alerted! Real life has been tough and I wish I could update as frequently as I'd like. I sincerely appreciate your patience and support.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Captain America_. No copyright infringement intended. Unbetaed, all mistakes are mine.

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Chapter 6: About Last Night…

Light, pure and intense streams through the blinds and pools on the washboard abdomen of the hero lying in the bed. A redhead - not the spy but the woman who's lain dormant beneath her surface sits curled in a chair with her knees pulled up to her chest. She wears his shirt and despite being surrounded by him - the comfort and security of his scent, his presence - she finds herself on the brink of panic.

He's more casual and relaxed than she's ever seen him before, unguarded and open as he sleeps. She wishes she could be that way. For a moment last night when his fingers traced her scar followed by his lips, she thought maybe she could be.

And that's the one thing keeping Natasha Romanoff from waking Steve Rogers with her mouth - fear of a deeper intimacy. Cold is what she knows. Though Russian women are capable of great passion, love is for children. Love is what he deserves and something she knows she can't give him.

Her brow furrows and she looks at her watch before swiping at the tears that begin to cloud her vision. Ten more minutes. Ten more minutes and she'd be on her way to meet her KGB contact for information about The Winter Soldier. That and the one other stop she has planned would be her parting gift to Steve before she skipped town to begin rewriting her covers. The truth is she hates herself for it even though she knows it's for the best.

She needs to get dressed. She knows when she does it will mean giving up his tshirt. Burying her face in his tshirt's neckline she drinks him in and catalogues their night together for the frigid nights ahead of her. Tomorrow he'll be nothing but a beautiful memory. It's safer for the both of them that way. Maybe if she keeps telling herself that long enough she'll finally believe it.

\- - - Captain America - - -

"Nat?" he half mumbles, half groans, groping for the woman he went to bed with only to find her pillow cold and empty. He doesn't remember being frozen for decades, but he's pretty sure that feeling would've had nothing on the bone deep chill he feels now. His eyes open and he sits up. "Natasha?"

He should've seen this coming and anticipated her flight response. If he had been thinking past the plump curve of her lips as they molded to his own, to his skin; if he had been able to feel beyond the pull of desire for her and the perfect way their bodies seemed to align… maybe he could've been ready, wound around her like a vine and gotten under her skin the way she had done to him.

That doesn't change anything. It doesn't erase the simple truth: she's gone. He doesn't have to leave the room to know she isn't here. It churns his stomach.

He thought he could handle anything, that if he fought for her and proved he wasn't like everyone else they could make this - whatever it was - work. He's no stranger to fighting for what he wants. Last night he laid the shield aside and been himself, the skinny kid from Brooklyn who let his heart get smashed over and over again trying his luck at the draft. The boy who ached to be what some girl wanted. The one before the serum who had fears and doubts the same way she did, cracks he wasn't afraid to share with her: the woman he could feel himself tumbling into the abyss for.

Things with Peggy weren't simple, but times were different. As much as he thought he loved - that he could be in love with - Agent Carter, Natasha makes him feel other, deeper things. He was willing to open himself to the experience and let the bottom fall away like a carnival ride. If he had any hope of getting through to her - any chance at making her believe they could be so much more to each other - he had to show vulnerability. Rejection isn't a new concept to Steve Rogers, it's simply one he'd thought he'd left behind.

Going to bed in a warm tangle of limbs was new and different. He liked it, having something - someone - to keep the demons at bay. It was as though she was made to fit in his arms and against his chest. He slept deeper than he had since the thaw, otherwise she would've woken him when she left.

Time to face the day. As much as he wants to find her and drag her back to bed keeping her there until she saw his point of view, he knows he can't. The sting of rejection burns but he'd rather have had the one night with her than to spend the coming years wondering. And more than that, he trusts that to get her back he'll have to let her go.

\- - - Captain America - - -

"You should be honored," Natasha says, advancing through the cemetery and clocking the surprise in Steve's features. "That's about as close as he gets to saying thank you."

If he's upset that she left him, he masks it well. He moves toward her with Sam Wilson a few paces behind. Care and concern glimmering in his eyes, Steve asks, "Not going with him?"

"No," the answer is quick and to the point. The blush that accompanies it as the Captain's eyes search her own is unexpected.

"Not stayin' here." There's a humor to his voice, an admissions he knows, that maybe he's known all along. She gets the feeling he'd reach for her if Sam wasn't acting as an awkward chaperone.

She averts her eyes, unable to completely hold his gaze and the hefty weight of the wreckage she left him to deal with. He'll move on. She'd make sure of it. "I blew all my covers. I gotta go figure out a new one."

That's when the dam begins to break. The honesty he showed her, the fear of loss as they clung to each other shines in the depths of his blue eyes in the light of day. She can barely hide the shiver that races down her spine when he admits the truth more for himself than for her. "That might take a while."

She says, "I'm counting on it," but what she really means is enough time for you to move on. Handing him the file with a smile, she doesn't dare let her own façade crumble. "That thing you asked for? I called in a few favors from Kiev."

Steve takes the file and she feels something inside her shatter as their fingers brush for a fraction of a second. Trying to sound positive but send a clear message, she lets moxie seep into her tone. "Will you do me a favor?" His eyes lift to hers and though she doesn't let it show, she almost loses her nerve. "Call that nurse?"

"She's not a nurse," he answers. His gaze pleads don't ask me for that, not after… He doesn't say it though. Not out loud in front of Sam. It's not a conversation he'd have in public, which is why she made sure she was gone before he woke up.

"And you're not a SHIELD agent," she reminds him.

"What was her name again?" Playful Steve is difficult to resist. She knows he remembers the girl's name. He remembers more than he lets on.

"Sharon," Natasha's voice cracks a tiny bit and she looks away. "She's nice." And she deserves you in a way I don't…

He gets a shy almost sad smile. She wants to change her mind and beg him not to chase the Winter Soldier. Running down demons does nothing but leave you with a ledger dripping red. She doesn't want that for Steve. He deserves to be happy.

\- - - Captain America - - -

If he didn't keep his nails short, Steve is sure they'd be cutting into his palms as he steels his restraint. It takes effort to keep his jaw relaxed. How could she pretend nothing had happened between them? Did she really think so little of herself?

Natasha presses a kiss to his cheek and his body screams to wrap her in his arms and force her to talk to him the way he had the night before. Confusion floods through him. What he felt went beyond old fashioned ideals. She was brushing him off on someone else less than 10 hours…

"Be careful, Steve," her voice draws him out of his inner monologue. "You might not wanna pull on that thread."

Shifting focus, he opens the file and glances down at James Buchanan Barnes' Army photo and the man Bucky became. He may not be able to control what happened with Natasha. He may have to wait, hoping she came back to him. But he didn't have to wait to help Bucky. Not anymore.

"You're goin' after him," Sam's voice cuts into his thoughts.

"You don't have to come with me," Steve says. He won't drag someone else into this fight. He'd almost lost his life trying to get Bucky back, he wouldn't ask Sam to do the same.

"I know," his friend answers. "When do we start?"

Rather than answer, Steve closes the folder and starts walking for his bike. The sooner they got started the sooner he'd have a distraction. A distraction meant not thinking about the broken shards of his heart spread between Natasha's bed and Fury's grave. "I'm starting now."

Starting his search. Starting to get over Natasha. He's not sure which. All he knows is it has to be today.

* * *

**A/N:** Oops? I know this will probably get me into trouble… but sorrynotsorry. Does it help if I promise I have a plan and I know what I'm doing? Maybe? *Ducks and hides.*


	7. Chapter 7: Two Guys, a Girl and a Pizza

**A/N:** I'm flattered. I've written 62 stories for this site counting this one and I'm pretty sure this is the first time someone has threatened to hunt me down if I didn't update soon. To quote Iron Man, "My name is Tony Stark and I'm not afraid of you."

I am, however, afraid this chapter isn't gonna get me out of trouble with ym4yum1 or anyone else…

That said, thank you all for your inspiration and support. I couldn't do this without you. Never underestimate the motivational power of a comment/review. Show your favorite writers some love.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Captain America_. Unbetaed, all mistakes are mine.

* * *

Chapter 7: Two Guys, a Girl and a Pizza Place

_"Do me wrong, do me right. Tell me lies but hold me tight._

_Save your good-byes for the morning light, but don't let me be lonely tonight." - Don't Let Me Be Lonely Tonight_

"So," Sam says slowly. "What happened with you and Natasha?"

It's taken two pitchers of beer and a couple of pies for him to realize the rumors about Captain America's metabolism aren't rumors, they're truth. Steve has been sulking for the better part of the afternoon and Sam isn't quite sure what to do for his friend. The longer they've sat there stuffing their mouths with pizza washed down with the best of drafts the little dive has on tap, the more concerned (and drunk) he's gotten while Steve has remained perfectly sober.

"I don't wanna talk about it." the soldier leans on the counter in front of them before grabbing another slice and folding it in half.

"Fair enough," Sam answers without making eye contact. He lifts his defrosted mug to his lips, a droplet of condensation dripping onto the bar as he ponders his own experience. Trust, team building. It isn't Steve's personality to talk about things, but he needs the other man to know he can if he needs to. "Women," he shakes his head. "I've been seeing this girl at the VA. Some days she's warm and others she's downright icy."

Steve takes a deep breath and releases it with a frustrated sound. He still doesn't respond to the bait but his mind trips over the events of the previous night. He thinks about the woman he took to bed, the version of Natasha that ran hot and made noises he'd never dreamt of hearing. Thinking about the cold-hearted spy isn't an option. She's more than that and he has proof.

\- - - Captain America - - -

Skin. Acres of soft, creamy skin, warm beneath his fingertips. She nearly glowed like a pearl in the combination of moon and lamplight in the otherwise dark apartment. He explored and mapped every curve and scar, committing the typography of her body to memory - especially the sensitive little spots he found by accident, the ones that caused her hips to shift needily and soft whimpers to pass her kiss-swollen lips.

Delicate hands splayed across his shoulders and chest, his back. Hands that felt tiny and fragile in his own and offered a touch that burned like a brand, leaving an invisible claim on his body he would never forget. They couldn't be seen but Natasha Romanoff's fingerprints stained his skin. He wouldn't change it, that she took unwitting ownership of something he was more than willing - ready - to give her.

Fighting for dominance. Struggling for air. Knocking over furniture and upsetting artwork as they banged into walls on their way to her bedroom. In that moment he understood the lines muttered by Shakespeare's Romeo: _Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again._

And again, and again and again…

\- - - Captain America - - -

"I like her, I do," Sam confesses. "I may even more than like her. But she won't let me in. PTSD is a bitch."

"You should tell her," Steve says after a long pause. The advice rings false because he didn't follow it himself. He let Natasha walk out of his life for God knows how long and he'd done nothing to try and stop her or keep her close. He left burgeoning feelings unspoken for fear of driving her away.

Sam's limbs feel a little heavy. He's rocking a decent buzz, but he's not so wasted he fails to catch the inflection in Steve's voice. Or the words he leaves out: _Trust me. I know._

Taking a long pull from his glass, Steve pushes from the bar and pulls a few bills from his wallet. "You should call her," he says as he slips into his jacket, the leather stretching taut over his broad shoulders. While he was lost in his own reverie he still caught enough to know what Sam needs. He pats him on the shoulder and starts for the door. "Be a shame to waste good pie and you're gonna need a ride home."

It's risky, he words that are about to leave his mouth, but he says them anyway and writes it off to alcohol and their budding bromance. "I'm not the only one who needs to phone a friend, Cap. Call her." Pointing a finger with a laugh, Sam adds. "And don't think about leaving without me."

"I'll take that under advisement," Steve answers dryly. "See you at 0700, soldier."

\- - - Captain America - - -

"Nat?" Rolling his eyes, Clint Barton pushes up from his seat in the corner and moves toward where the red-headed spy hurriedly shoves her belongings into a bag. "Natasha, are you even listening to me?"

The Black Widow is singularly focused. If she hadn't needed a ride to the airstrip, she wouldn't have bothered calling the marksman. She mutters a curse under her breath in Russian before turning and offering the sweetest smile she can muster. "I'm sorry. Were you talking to me? All I heard was a buzzing noise. I thought it might've been a fly."

"As your friend, I'm telling you: don't do this." He isn't tall but the way his muscular arms fold over his chest, his eyes narrowing and his jaw clenching makes him look imposing. Or it would. If she didn't know him better. Clint likes to play tough, but on the inside he's mush. That's the reason she's still breathing years after he'd been ordered to take her life.

"I'm already gone, a shadow," she says with a sigh. "Soon, I'll be a memory."

Hawkeye paces, blowing out a breath and rubbing the back of his neck. "This is a bad idea, going after Barnes yourself. Let me come with you. Better yet, go with Rogers."

"He doesn't know I'm going after the Winter Soldier," Natasha says coolly. "And I don't want him to. He almost died, Clint. I need to do a threat assessment before he gets too close. I'm not emotionally attached like he is."

Chuckling wryly, he stares at her. "You're right. You're far worse."

Natasha adopts a defensive posture, crossing her arms tightly against her breasts and tapping her foot. "Exactly what are you implying, Barton?" She tips her head, her eyes growing cold. "You know better than anybody I'm capable of handling myself."

"If by handling yourself you mean running off half cocked without back-up, yeah. I do." He grips the chair in front of him and squeezes the plush curl of its back. "Barnes is dangerous and you're running scared."

"I'm not afraid of Bucky Barnes!" she scoffs, zipping up her bag and marching toward the door. She's had enough of Clint's big-brother bullshit. She doesn't need protection. She needs to clean up the bloody train wreck she's made of her life and wipe out the red. Maybe if she were living in the black, things would change.

Who was she kidding? Things would never change. She'd never been good enough. The only thing she's good at is causing damage.

"I'm not talking about Barnes. I'm talking about Rogers," Clint says brushing past her. "You're afraid he might actually melt the ice palace you've been living in."

\- - - Captain America - - -

The air is cool on his face as he rides through DC on his motorcycle. If he thinks about it, there's a lot to like about what's changed in the world. There's also a lot to wish he had no part of. Like instant replays in televised sports.

Seeing something over and over, being forced to scrutinize a play or call, ruined the purity of his favorite sport. If Something was questioned and they started evaluating and measuring, it took the human element out of the game. Nothing is perfect. Life happens, calls get blown. Part of the love affair with baseball is letting the ball find the field and watching the players dance after if. Replays killed the romance of the game - the soaring feeling of a win and the heartbreak of loss.

In his limited experience with women, he'd never bothered to review what happened or question himself. He hadn't wondered if he could've - should've - done things differently. Not until Natasha. Now the moments he's shared with her play on constant loop. He wants to let it unfold like a good ballgame, but he's afraid he'll lose track of the ball like an outfielder searching for a pop-up in the sun's glare. So he's questioning everything and rerunning events in his head until he sees nothing but her face in his mind.

Their first kiss - the real one, not the one they shared at the mall but the one in Sam's guest room. He can almost taste the sadness and relief on her mouth even now. Vulnerability isn't weakness, it's an admission that you need someone else to help you through the hard times. He wants to absorb her pain and pack it away, building her a safe haven where she's free to just be. If Sam hadn't interrupted…

Yeah, no. He can't even fool himself with that one. Nothing would've happened, not then. A handful of kisses maybe, but not more than that.

Last night though? That was another story. They'd melted together in a tangle of limbs and teeth, colliding with the force of a baseball finding the sweet spot on a home run hitter's bat. They sailed over the friendship fence and nothing could've stopped them.

Which is why he's here, at her place, with sweaty palms. Love doesn't wait. At least it shouldn't. When it finds you, you grab onto it and you don't let go. It's a fine line, fighting for it and letting it come to you. He gets the feeling nobody's ever fought for her and she needs to know he will and that he'll wait.

The elevator climbs slowly. He watches the numbers ping across the display but what he sees is the almost shy way she stripped for him, standing just out of arm's reach at the edge of the bed while he reclined against the headboard. Her movements had been natural and fluid, yet almost choreographed with ballet precision.

Lifting a hand, he knocks on the door before leaning his ear against the metal. Nothing. He removes the key from his pocket and lets himself in.

For the most part her condo is how he left it this morning. The bed is made and the dishes are done. But several of the drawers hang open with clothing dripping from their openings as though she packed in a hurry. There's a note on her pillow on top of what appears to be the tshirt he failed to locate before leaving.

Sitting on the end of the bed, Steve pulls out the ridiculous cellphone Tony hooked him up with and dials her number. He's met with a series of three tones and a female voice, "I'm sorry. The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected."

The device smashes against the wall and the Captain slides his hands through his hair. Late. He was too late. She's gone and he had no idea how to even begin looking for her. That's assuming he hadn't already planned to go after Bucky.

He clutches the note in his hand, afraid to read what it says because he's terrified its her final goodbye. The paper crumples in his hand and he shoves it in his pocket before stalking out of the room as a well of emotion begins to suffocate him.

\- - - Captain America - - -

Touch. There are so many kinds of touch. The kinds meant to hurt and take apart. The ones reserved for a mother giving comfort to her children. Those between partners to support and stabilize. And those of a lover.

His hands were big and confident despite his inexperience. He'd watched her reaction carefully and seemed to know when to ease up and when to pull her closer. She's had more lovers than she'd ever admit to Steve, but never had she been with someone so attentive. Maybe he was right. Maybe what it took was finding the right partner to do more than just dance with.

Slow burn, tension popping and crackling like dry kindling just before flashing into open flame. Aching with want so badly she'd nearly taken control of the situation herself. But she hadn't, she couldn't really. The unadulterated innocence of his caress made her feel… new, like it was the first time and she was someone worthy of being worshiped.

In the blinding heat of the night, she'd risen from the ashes of her past. She had surrendered to him and let him give her what she'd never had. For the first time in a long time, Natasha felt free. When morning light came, so did the guilt. They'd ruined each other, but she could fix things for him even if she couldn't save herself. She could let him be with someone else, someone more deserving.

"Call me if…" she starts when Clint shifts the car into park.

"Rogers doesn't need a babysitter, Natasha. He needs his partner." Hawkeye doesn't mince words and everything he's said tonight has pierced like a dagger.

"And I need to know he's safe," she says, staring out the window. "You and me? We've evened our score, but he saved me and I couldn't…"

"It's not a damned competition. We're a team," he tells her. "And team members have each other's backs."

Sighing in frustration, Clint grabs her arm and forces Natasha to look at him. "Rogers is old school, no man left behind. That's why he's going after Barnes. You feel like you owe him?" His eyes cut into her every bit as much as his words. "Quit running and talk to him. Because if you cross paths with him and you haven't, you're done. He may never forgive you for walking out. And I'm not sure I'd blame him."


	8. Chapter 8: Trouble-d Man - Girl On Fire

**A/N:** If you're gonna be a bear, be a grizzly… and if you're gonna build a bomb, don't blow yourself up. Many thanks to all of you out there supporting my creative efforts with your comments, favorites and follows. I hope you'll continue to stick with me...

This chapter was difficult to write. It didn't go at all the way I planned, but I'm going with it because I know where I want to end up.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Captain America_. Unbetaed, all mistakes are mine.

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Chapter 8: Trouble-d Man/Girl On Fire

Washington, DC - 0741 Hours

As his feet hit the pavement in repetitive motion, America's super soldier tries to clear the fog. Two weeks. He and Sam had spent two weeks trying to run down clues from Bucky's file and come up empty handed.

Kiev, Moscow, a corner of Germany. They'd gone to New Mexico and Washington State. For nothing. It was as though pages missing from the file Natasha had given him. There were loops they couldn't quite close.

Steve feels lost, empty. This is possibly worse than waking up after nearly seven decades on ice. SHIELD is dismantled. He can no longer trust Natasha. Bucky is out there - somewhere - and there's nothing he can do to save the man who saved his ass more times than he cares to admit.

Running was routine. He could go on for miles and hardly break a sweat. The pathway through the monuments and along the Potomac was familiar and comforting. He needed that. Needed to switch to autopilot and pound it out of his system.

Ahead of him a blonde ponytail swings with a female jogger's movements. She's tall and he tries not to follow the long lines of her muscled legs beneath the spandex of her pants as he catches up.

"On your…" he's about to pass her when she trips, stumbling on loose spot in the concrete pathway. Instinct kicks in and he reaches out, catching her and pulling her to his chest. "Left."

They tumble to the grass beside the pathway, her body draped over his. Her hair tickles his cheek and his hands find the contours of her slim waist to steady her. He doesn't realize he's holding his breath until the sweet sound of her voice caresses his ears.

"I'm not usually such a klutz…" She blushes, her hands pushing against his chest as she lifts soulful eyes to meet his gaze. "Thank you."

Steve blinks at her for a few seconds. She's familiar. He knows her. The woman in his arms is the one Natasha urged him to seek out. "Sharon?"

A bright smile spreads at his recognition and she nods. "It's nice to see you again, Captain," she says, swiping a damp strand of hair from her forehead. "I'm sorry about… you know."

"It happens." He half smiles back at her, his fingers unconsciously flexing on her bare back. It didn't register that he was still holding her until that moment and his hands drop quickly and he moves to help her up. Chuckling awkwardly, he returns her apology. "Sorry."

"It happens," she says shyly as she steps away to give the hero his space. "Seriously, it was lucky you were here. I just aced my marksmanship eval with the CIA. I start on the president's private detail Monday. Couldn't very well do that with a busted ankle."

They fall into step with each other and continue on together. Their jog turns into more of a leisurely stroll and Steve shoves his hands into his pockets as he listens to her talk about life and how she was recruited for SHIELD. He stays quiet. It's nice to have a distraction, something other than the sound of his own heartbeat.

"Oh my God, I'm rambling…" Sharon's hands cover her flushed cheeks. "I do that when I get nervous… which is not to say you make me… Shutting up now."

They both laugh, stopping at the corner of the park. Steve rubs his neck. Should he...? "I'm this way," he says, hooking his thumb to the right.

"And I'm…" she answers, using hers to point left.

Standing stock still, neither moves from their spot. It would be easy to chalk it up to a friendly run in and walk away, but he finds he can't. She's sweet. Sweet is good, it's different than cold and cryptic. Maybe Natasha was right.

"Hey, Sharon? I…" he fumbles for the right words. He hasn't asked a woman out in… a long time. "I was wondering if maybe, that is if you don't have other plans…"

She twists her fingers together in front of her and shuffles her feet. Smiling up at him, she takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Yes, Steve. I'd love to have dinner with you."

\- - - Captain America - - -

Belgorod, Ukraine - 1620 Hours

"Where is he?" she demands, the fingers of her right hand balling into a fist as those of her left yank the man's hair back. It shouldn't take much to break Yuri. That's why she started with him.

The soviet soldier tries to keep his fear from showing. He's had run-ins with the Widow before, the last one landing him in a full body cast. They both know he should be dead, that he would be dead if he hadn't had a tiny amount of serum infused in his bloodstream.

Arms bound with zip ties, his broad shoulders pull the fabric of his shirt taut. He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat in a way that makes her trigger finger itch. "I know nothing."

Her black leather catsuit clings to her body and his eyes follow the curve of her hip as she lifts a leg to push the sole of her boot against his chair. Three more feet to the old elevator shaft. He's heavy, but not so heavy she can't inch him toward the thirteen story drop. Tilting her head, she smiles. "Don't lie to me, Yuri. Where is the Winter Soldier?"

The Russian's mouth opens just as her cellphone starts to ring. She cracks her neck, her eyes not leaving his as she raises the barrel of her Beretta level with the center of his forehead. "You should answer," Yuri says cockily. "My employer will not be happy."

Natasha's eyes narrow and she pulls the device without lowering her weapon. "I'm a little busy," she tells the caller.

"If you know what is good for you, you will…" A bullet whizzes by his ear and the man grows quiet as his face reddens.

"Next time I won't miss," she warns, turning from her captive. her voice drops. "What's your status?"

\- - - Captain America - - -

Washington, DC - 0825 Hours

Sharon Carter dries her freshly washed hair, rolling her eyes as she hears gunfire in the background of the phone call. "Phase one is complete. Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Opening her drawer, she pulls out fresh clothes and begins getting dressed. She was more than a little shocked by the Black Widow's visit as she returned from her run two weeks ago. The real surprise was when the female spy had enlisted her to do more than Fury had suggested.

Seducing Steve Rogers hadn't been in the plan and it required a skill set she hadn't learned at the academy. Natasha had those skills. She'd offered to teach them. Define awkward. Deadly Russian super-spy offering to teach you everything you needed to take the first Avenger to bed. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't intrigued.

"When?" Sharon hears shuffling in the background, Natasha's voice has an edge to it that makes her unsure whether she's talking to her or someone she's with. "Get it together, Carter."

Well, that answered that question. "I don't know. Possibly as soon as tonight."

"I guess you've got your work cut out for you then," there's a lilt in Natasha's voice. One Sharon almost doesn't pick up on.

"Are you sure I'm right for this? I mean…" Sharon trails off when Natasha laughs.

\- - - Captain America - - -

"You're absolutely the right person." _For starters, you aren't me,_ Natasha adds to herself. _You aren't broken._ "Just go easy on him, will you? He's seen a lot of action, but not the kind he needs."

It's hard to say it out loud, hard to admit it when she can still feel his hands and his mouth on her skin. What had happened between them before she left was… magical. She doesn't deserve that and he deserves better than an assassin.

"Hey, Natasha?" the other agent's voice is small. Or maybe it's the blood pounding between her ears that makes it seem that way.

"I have to go." She says coolly. Cold hearted bitch. She was made to kill, not to love.

"I just…" Sharon takes a breath and hurries to finish her thought before the call gets disconnected. "I just wanted to thank you. For trusting me with your partner."

"Yeah," she answers indifferently, her finger poised to end the call. "Don't mention it."

She wanted to start over. To create a new cover and move on in a world that didn't involve the temptation that was Steve Rogers. Helping Sharon Carter do what she knows she can't do herself - not matter how much or how badly she may want to - was just one more match lit to burn her world to the ground... the only problem will be learning to live with the fire in her heart. A fire _he_ started.

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**A/N:** *Ducks the tomatoes.* Please don't hate me?


	9. Chapter 9: Caught In The Act

**A/N: ** Sorry for the delay. I've been struggling with writing due to stress but I think I'm finally back on track now.

I knew where this was going when I started, but this story has a mind of its own. Those who write will understand. If you don't... imagine finding yourself staring at a computer screen at 11:40PM saying, "What the hell just happened?!"

After sitting on this for two days I've decided to go with it and how it changes my outline. Unbetaed. All mistakes are mine.

**Disclaimer: **_Captain America _belongs to Marvel.

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Chapter 9: Caught In The Act

Abandoned Asylum, Austrian Alps - 1620 Hours

There were many places scattered through Europe where HYDRA performed some sort of experiments. It had taken them a while to break the coded coordinates on this one in the file Natasha had given him. Someone had attempted to redact the portion of text containing the location and he'd had to search textbooks and internet sites for pictures to piece together the name and missing digits.

They couldn't risk flying in. The journey had been complex, the drop point 48 miles away from their target. His companion flew low over the trees and Captain America _borrowed_ a motorcycle after taking the first 3 miles on foot.

Winding sharply, the road earned the nickname bestowed by the captives who lived to tell of their escape. _Cliffs of Insanity._ Pumped full of drugs and delirious, attempting the route in a stolen vehicle was madness and few of those who managed to get passed the gates made it down. Most lost their lives trying to outrun the guards on the lone exit path.

Finally reaching the top, Steve's breath catches at the sight and he attempts to swallow the overwhelming sense of dread that fills him. This isn't the first place of its kind he and Sam have checked out. He knows it's a long shot. Chances Bucky would be here are low, but the odds of finding information are another story.

Dark clouds hang in the air like lost souls hovering above the abandoned compound. The surrounding buildings - those a steep drop down from the main facility - have been vacant for decades. The tiny town had fallen to ruin, making it the perfect alcove for HYDRA's experiments. There was no one around to hear the tortured screams of the dying and those wishing they were dead.

Now that he's here, Steve is wishing he wasn't. His heart quickens and for a minute he swears he can hear the screams of those who didn't survive to make it outside of the walls. He steals himself and speaks softly into his com. "Check the perimeter, Sam. I'm going in."

\- - - Captain America - - -

Haunted. The asylum was rumored to be haunted. If you believed in that sort of thing, which she doesn't.

Right now Natasha Romanoff is wishing she'd come alone. Having Clint Barton trailing close behind like an eager puppy is off putting. He knows her history, but she doesn't feel she can employ the same techniques she once would've in a situation like this under Hawkeye's watchful gaze. Not anymore. Not after...

Proceeding with caution, she slips in through a side window and drops onto a landing. The place is definitely spooky and it makes her skin crawl. Then again, maybe it's not the building itself but a voice she hears in the quiet. One she swears she recognizes from her past. If she alerts Barton, he'll say she's compromised and that they should leave now without looking back.

She's come too far for that and it's only a matter of time before Steve figures out this is one of the better leads. She needs to know what they're up against with Barnes and if the man can be saved. The fact Steve was pulled from the Potomac by the Winter Soldier means little to her.

There are always exceptions. Before Steve got close enough for Barnes to do more damage if not to his body but his heart and mind, she needed to know it was safe. Steve's capacity for hope even in times of weakness and despair is something she envies. He's somehow maintained his innocent outlook and sees the best in those he cares about.

Including her and she's failed him. Protecting the man who's given her something to believe in - even if that means protecting him from himself - is a task she takes seriously.

She could make amends with this mission. This wasn't about wiping out red. The wound she'd inflicted on Rogers isn't physical. It's worse in a way she hadn't considered.

\- - - Captain America - - -

Hearing voices, Captain America pauses in a doorframe to listen. His voice is low as he relays the news to Falcon over his com. "We've got hostiles. Sounds like they're at least a floor up."

Sam lets out a brief laugh as he answers. "We got friendlies, too. I saw Barton on my sweep."

The news doesn't surprise Steve. If Hawkeye was here, he wasn't alone. That meant Black Widow was lurking somewhere as well. He wasn't going to let her get away without giving him answers. "Did he see you?"

"Negative, Cap," his reply is crisp and clear. "You want me to engage."

The Captain's jaw tenses. It was a question of loyalties and whose side Barton was on, not only how much Natasha had told him but how much of what she'd said was true. He could trust Sam, as for the others? "Keep eyes and ears open, but do not engage. Not yet."

As if on cue, he spies Romanoff's trademark hair. Red locks curl slightly and shine in the low light. Even as he tries to focus on the mission, his body responds the way it had in her apartment. A low groan of frustration at his inability to separate the two things escapes before he can stop it.

"You okay, Cap? We can scrap this part and catch up with them on the way out."

His friend's comment only serves to irritate him further. "If I wanted commentary, I'd have brought Stark."

He approaches Black Widow cautiously, quickly advancing on her position and taking her by surprise. Her guns still holstered, Steve manages to catch her arms and pin them behind her. his voice is a low hiss. "I should've known I'd run into you at some point."

\- - - Captain America - - -

She had known it was him before she heard his voice. It takes everything in the spy not to melt against the Captain's broad chest. "Steve..."

"Wait. Rogers is here?" Barton's voice comes over her com.

Natasha doesn't have time to answer. She and Steve have been spotted. He sees the red laser against her suit and spins her from the opening just before bullets chip away the wood and plaster at the edge of the door.

Wide green eyes meet blue ones as the super soldier shields her with his body. Whatever else they were or had become, she was always his partner before she was anything else. Even when he clearly wasn't sure he could trust her.

_Safe._ She can't swallow or breathe. The word hangs between them.

"Together?" she asks, already knowing the answer.

Steve nods and tries to ignore how watching her pull the guns holstered at her thighs turns him on. _She's as beautiful as she is deadly,_ he thinks as she drops the first gunman. He hits a second with his shield, the disk finding his arm just in time to block a series of bullets aimed at her.

He spies the third man on the landing above and seeks a route of access. A grand staircase climbs to the level but there are several steps that have rotted away, putting them at a disadvantage. It would be a tricky jump, but he's made far worse.

With a soft _pop, pop_ Black Widow takes the shooter down. Looking to Steve, she follows his sight line and makes her way toward the stairs. "More will be coming. Gimme a boost, Cap? Like New York?"

Joining her swiftly, he tips his shield and launches the spy into a somersault that carries her to the landing just in time and she holds off three more men on her own until he makes the leap.

The pair fall into an uncanny rhythm as though nothing has comec between them. Push, pull. Dodge, parry. Lending a hand, ducking to allow the other to attack.

"We want the third floor," she tells him when they make it through the attackers. "Western end of the building."

\- - - Captain America - - -

It takes a while for him to call her on it, at least in part because he's not sure how. They are on a narrow spiral staircase, typical of the architecture of the timeframe. She is able to move quickly because the space wasn't built for someone his height. He finds it unnerving that she's ahead of him and he can't protect her. "There were pages missing from the file you gave me."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she answers without looking back at him.

He grabs her wrist. "Yeah, I think you do. When this is over, you're telling me everything."

Natasha swears under her breath in Russian and he thinks he's hit a nerve until he sees her take on another guard. This one is female and Steve finds himself being pressed to the wall to give the assassin space as she twists and manages to force the other woman down the stairs.

When you know someone - when the way they move comes with no surprise - maneuvering with and around them becomes an intricate dance and it's almost like you become one person. He finds that to be even more true now than it was before. It doesn't matter that they've been apart. It doesn't matter that trusting her is messy and complicated. There'll be time for sorting all that out later. Right now, even though it pains Steve Rogers to admit it, he trusts Natasha Romanoff to have his back more than anyone. Even Sam Wilson.

\- - - Captain America - - -

It wouldn't take a genius to know Steve is mad. He should and has every right to be. What surprises her isn't that they still work together, Natasha had known to expect that. The level of emotion she feels - the pain of his obvious disappointment - burns her like a brand.

At the top of the stairs, he pushes past her. It's not about sexism or what happened between them before she left. It's about being a leader. She's gotten past the point where it bothers her but right now, in this moment, she wishes it didn't give her a few extra seconds to ruminate on her sins.

The sight that greets her when she follows him into the room isn't what she expected, nor is the Captain's reaction to it. She watches his hands ball into fists when he sees the machine and knows she's got her work cut out for her when he lunges at the man standing in the corner.

Steve doesn't lose his cool often. Natasha can sense the rage bubbling beneath the surface. The creature Banner becomes is very different from the fury of a man who has faced loss and fights like he's got nothing left is breathtaking.

\- - - Captain America - - -

"Captain Rogers," the scientist is short, his accent heavy. He reminds Steve a little of Arnim Zola. What's more striking is the complete lack of fear in the man's eyes as the soldier towers over him. Looking past the soldier, he also addresses the spy. "Agent Romanoff. I was hoping the two of you would come."

A light glows in the corner. It's a deep orange that seems to pulse behind and around an old medical chair. Steve is lost in thoughts of Bucky and all the suffering and experiments his friend was made to go through. The terrified screams in his head become those of his friend and he can almost see Bucky being strapped into the cracked leather seat.

Head gear. Wires and electrical equipment. It's different than the tube used to create him, yet it's familiar.

"You know you are curious, Captain," the man's taunt cuts into Steve. "I can show you the world I have shown the Winter Soldier. You too can be reprogrammed. You can have power beyond your wildest dreams."

Steve removes his helmet and lets the leather mask drop to the floor. His arm flexes and he puts the shield on his back. There is a tick to his jaw, but he otherwise stands frozen.

"Tempting, isn't it? Not to be ruled by emotion. To forget the anguish of loss. To get back at those who have betrayed you."

\- - - Captain America - - -

Black Widow watches the awkward standoff between the two men. She doesn't shudder or flinch, but her heart squeezes painfully in her chest. Being trained in the Red Room, doing time with the KGB and SHIELD, she's no stranger to torture.

Steve wants answers. He wants to understand what his friend has been through so he can pull him out. She gets that, understands that it's who he is. What she doesn't understand is why he's standing there letting the scientist get into his head.

That's what brings her into action. She's capable of all the things he isn't. Perhaps the best way to cure them both of this odd... infatuation ...they have with each other is to show him she's a monster.

Gripping the man by his lab coat, she jerks him forward and pushes him toward the chair. The air around them seems to crackle with energy. He laughs maniacally as she straps him down.

"Do you think you frighten me, Agent Romanoff?" his eyes slice into her, brows raising and his lips twitching. "I am familiar with what you are capable of. The techniques used in your training are legendary."

The spy freezes. She doesn't know or understand the power the scientist holds over her and Rogers, but she is beginning to suspect it's something akin to mind control. Tipping her head, she narrows her eyes. "Barton, what's your status? I think Cap and I are compromised."

Steve hasn't moved. He's rooted in his position. Lifting her gun, she trains it on the man in the chair. "Wilson and I are on the way. Can you neutralize the threat?"

Something in her says they need him. A sound chokes in her throat and she shakes her head. "Negative. We need to bring him in," her voice breaks as she tells Hawkeye the important part. "Think Loki. I just don't know how."

This was going to be more complicated than she expected. Natasha's head swims with memories of the Red Room. Being forced to fight other girls. Seducing men twice her age. Innocence and hope lost because it was the only means of survival.

Emotion - tension - is running high when she feels the gun being drawn from her hand. Snapping out of it she looks to see the scientist's head slumping to the side, a dart sized arrow sticking out of his neck. Clint's voice breaks through and she looks at the archer as though he's speaking another language, but he isn't speaking to her. "I've called a team to pick him and the equipment up. We need to get the two of them out of this room."

\- - - Captain America - - -

Steve couldn't say how much time had passed. When he becomes aware of his surroundings, he's in the remnants of what was once a chapel. Blinking, he looks at Barton and Wilson. "What happened?"

The two men look at each other and Steve scrubs a hand over his face. Uncertainty plagues him. The last thing he remembers is staring into an amber light and feeling an overwhelming mix of emotion hit him in waves.

"Natasha," he says, reaching for Barton. Concern colors his features and fear of loss tugs painfully at his gut. "Is she... ?"

Stepping from the shadows, the redhead smiles weakly. "Hey, fellas? Give us a minute, will ya?"

"I'm just gonna check on the status of the reinforcements," Barton says a little too quickly. Wilson's eyebrows hit his hairline and Steve has to wave the other soldier off.

Once the room is cleared, Natasha inches closer but still keeps her distance. "Just relax, Cap. Take a few deep breaths. You're okay. _We're_ okay."

He doesn't like her tone. Feeling vulnerable and exposed, he pauses for a moment before laughing bitterly. "Gee, Nat, I don't know," he says angrily. "Are _we_ okay?"

Confusion furrows her sculpted brows and she pushes a hand through her hair. "We got out unscathed and we may be one step closer to figuring out what happened to Barnes. I'd call that a win." She shrugs slightly. "So this wasn't what either of us planned, at least we're still breathing."

Steve cracks his neck, his jaw setting firmly. _Had he drawn a full breath since she left him?_ "That's not what I meant and we both know it." His eyes narrow, his hands coming to rest on his hips as he glares down at her. "I trusted you and I let my guard down," he confesses. "And then I woke up. In your bed. Alone."

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**A/N:** On one hand, some of you are hating me for this cliffy... on the other, I think you can guess the content of the next chapter.

In case you're curious, it's ready to upload. I wrote it before this one.


	10. Chapter 10: It Happened One Night

**A/N: **I'd like to thank my reviewers for taking time to share their thoughts. Your words make me smile and help me find motivation. A single comment can inspire more than you know.

As a housekeeping matter, if you don't like my story or the pairings I choose to write about, please go find something you enjoy and keep your hate to yourself. Constructive criticism is one thing. Words intended to stop a writer from continuing are something else entirely. I've been using this site for 5 years and this is one of the rare times I've considered removing a review. A lot of amazing stories have gotten deleted over far less that what was said to me. Bullying will not be tolerated.

I apologize for the the lecture, but it needed to be said. My tolerance level for that crap is extremely low.

Unbetaed. All mistakes are mine.

**Disclaimer:** _Captain America _belongs to Marvel.

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Chapter 10: It Happened One Night

_"Like how a single word can make a heart open. I might only have one match, but I can make an explosion." - Fight Song_

Washington, DC - Several Weeks Earlier

_"Don't hide from me. You're safe, Nat. Let me see you. The real you."_

_Safe_. Steve's words ricochet around in her head like a hail of bullets bouncing off of his shield and yet when he says she's safe with him she believes he means it. Trouble is she's not sure who she is anymore.

_What's in a name? Is she Natasha Romanoff? Natalia Alianovna Romanova? Does the woman even exist beneath the icy spy she's become?_

"Steve..." She backs away from his touch. It's too delicate, too tender and far too intimate. It's more than she deserves. She moves into the kitchen to have something to do with her hands. Fixing a glass of water, she carefully keeps her eyes from meeting his. "It's complicated. I've..."

In a moment, he's behind her. She can feel his body heat slicing through the chill that's washed over her own. His hands find her waist and hold firm, pulling her back against his chest. His tone is demanding when he clarifies, "I don't care what you were."

His movements are careful. Turning her to face him, Steve pins her hips against the counter. He won't let her off easy. Thumb skating beneath the edge over her shirt to stroke along the puckered flesh of the scar on her side, he lowers his mouth to hers for a deep, searching kiss. When he draws back, they're both breathless and his eyes are a shade of blue unlike anything she's ever seen before. "I care who you _are_."

Slowly - more because he's worried she'll panic than due to his inexperience - he reaches for her and peels the jacket from her shoulders. The leather falls in a heap on the granite surface behind her and his fingers trail up her bare arms as his lips drift down the column of her neck. _Not too fast. Gently, gently..._

Something deep inside Natasha - something she was convinced died in the Red Room - unfurls like a leaf toward sunlight. Russian women, like the land they come from, are cold. As a spy, she's trained not to feel anything, to ignore pain and be allergic to emotion. With warmth and a patience she didn't realize could exist, Steve has broken through the ice. It scares her more than any foe or weapon she's faced. She doesn't know what to do or how to respond.

Steve can sense the exact moment she begins to thaw. It isn't the way she pushes at his jacket or how her fingers slip into his hair, which are both thrilling. It's in the whispered sigh that comes when he hitches her up on the counter and she wraps her toned legs around him.

A heated frenzy. The crush of mouths and nips of teeth, forceful and urgent. Natasha's hand gripping the doorframe to propel Steve toward her bedroom rather than the couch. Shattered glass when they bump too hard against the wall and a picture falls.

As in the field, Steve works on instinct. Action, reaction. He doesn't stop to think, he doesn't have to because the noises she makes tell him he may not know exactly what he's doing but he's _definitely_ on the right track.

Natasha stretches against the wall, tugging her camisole over her head in a catlike motion that leaves Steve awestruck. The dim glow of the kitchen light caresses her skin in a path his hands follow, skimming up her sides and stopping just beneath her breasts. He shifts her higher, his mouth dragging along her throat and collarbone until she whimpers.

_Never_. Never has such a needy noise fallen from the spy's lips. Steve's hands move confidently over her skin and she aches to touch him but the cotton of his shirt is in her way and his hold on her prevents her from taking what she wants. With a slightly awkward flex of his hips to steady her, he leans back and tugs the fabric from his body.

As her arms wind around his neck, he pushes off the wall and fumbles with the clasp of her bra as she moans against his ear. Skin on skin. Surrounded by his warmth her fingers dig into his back as they devour each other, neither stopping as he lays her back on the bed and comes to rest hovering over her.

She knows him, knows that Steve wouldn't be Steve if he didn't...

Breathless, the soldier pants against her lips as his fingers tangle in her hair, "You sure about this?"

Tension coils in his muscles. His morals demand he give her the out even as her body screams to be taken. Kiss swollen lips tremble, green eyes searching his as her fingers curl around his neck. "Are you?"

For that split second - the moment where she holds her breath until his eyes soften and his hold on her tightens just a fraction - she's laid completely bare and vulnerable. Being wanted by other men has never been a second thought. Being wanted by _this_ man? The poster boy for all that is good and right? It's miraculous.

His hand cups her cheek, his lips coming to hers in the most reverent kiss she's ever been given. Steve murmurs a single word against her mouth in a way that calms her fears and makes her shudder. "Natasha..."

Her name couldn't sound sweeter or more strained. Vulnerability is power, at least it is right now. She knows he needs this - _her_ \- just as much as she needs him.

What happens isn't fast or hurried. Steve explores her body with painstaking care, mapping her skin with his hands and following with his mouth. Natasha wiggles and writhes under his touch, particularly when his tongue flicks over her scar. Fingers threading into his hair, she attempts to urge him back to her mouth.

Flashover. Two combustibles coming into contact. A spark catching fire and causing an explosion. Her body is a raging inferno and her Captain is singularly focused on giving her attention. She is powerless to do anything but cede control.

Who knew the slow _snick_ of a zipper could be so erotic? That the press of his thumb to the arch of her foot could send a shock of electricity straight to her core? How was it that he had her teetering on the edge of something stronger than she'd ever felt when she thought - _knew_ \- he was inexperienced?

Natasha knows she should take control before she loses her sanity. But as Steve lifts her leg to remove her other boot, she flexes the stockinged toes of her foot against his pectoral and bites her lip. The way he looks at her - touches her, kisses her, every little thing he does - is foreign. It makes her blush. And Black Widow _doesn't_ blush.

Sliding her hands over her chest, she hugs her arms around her bare breasts before tickling her fingers over her abdomen to the fastenings on her jeans. There's something about the way Steve stops her, his hands coming over hers and freeing the button before she can. The way they then fist in the denim and tug it down in a way that makes the thick fabric rub with tormenting friction against her skin.

The jeans are followed by the silk of her knee-high stockings. His hands glide up her ankle and circle her calf, his fingers tucking into the cuff. She trembles, her body pulling from the bed in agony as he repeats the motion before placing his palms on the bed.

_Too many clothes._ He's still in jeans and socks, but she can't make her brain form the words. Not even when he wraps an arm around her and adjusts her position beneath him so she's laying on the pillows at the top of the bed.

Satisfied with his actions, he leans in to kiss her only to gasp into her mouth as her hand closes around his length. _When had she...? _"Oh God."

She's smiling against his lips and watching the way his eyes slam tightly shut. He's distracted, but not so distracted he doesn't even the score. "Natasha... Nat..."

Her tongue slips over the lush pillow of her lower lip and her hand falters when his fingers slip beneath the lacy barrier of her panties. For an unpracticed fossil, he sure seems to know what he's doing. In a sultry voice - one she's used to tease Steve that comes out so throaty she almost doesn't recognize the sound - she asks, "You holding out on me, Cap?"

Steve chuckles, his fingers swirling and dipping in a way that makes her lift her hips as she squirms against his hand. "The internet," he answers with a slight smirk, kissing the corner of her mouth. "So helpful."

It becomes a battle of wills - pushing and pulling, twisting and tugging. Hands all over and lips only part for want of air. Kisses as deep, wet and hungry as touches.

It's everything, yet not enough. And as the minutes turn to hours they experience something neither has felt before, something that ends in a sticky mess and hums of pleasure. Something that feels a lot like the beginning of something they both thought they could ever have.

Love.

\- - - Captain America - - -

Present Day Austria

Captain America turns away from Black Widow, the mask he's tried to hide behind - chiseled features schooled into hard lines - falling as he grips the back of the bench in front of him. "Call me old fashioned," he says ruefully, shaking his head, "but after what we shared I thought we had something."

Natasha opens her mouth only to close it again. This is exactly why she's wrong for him. She doesn't have his open heart. She isn't an optimist. Love is for children. It's a weakness, a risk she's unwilling to take even though everything in her says if anyone's worth it he is.

Steve doesn't wait for her to answer. She's not the only one with defense mechanisms. With every wall of hers he's tried to break down, he's unknowingly picked up the loose bricks and built a new one for himself. His chest tightens as he delivers cold words he doesn't mean. Words meant to protect something that no longer belongs to him. His heart. "Go, Romanoff. Just leave. Secrets, lies and running scared. That's what you're good at. Right?"

She's grateful he isn't looking. The moisture trailing over her cheeks would give away the things she can't say, the pain she'll never admit he has the power to inflict.

The whispered echo of the door closing is a sound that causes the Captain to put a hole in the plaster wall with his fist. He's not sure what he hates more - her for leaving or himself for letting her go when he could've stopped her this time.

The heart wants what it wants. And right now Steve Roger's heart is in his throat. The further she gets away the louder the single word she murmured as she curled against his chest in the dark becomes. A word he wishes he'd used now rather than pushing her to walk out of his life.

_Оставаться_.

_Stay_.

* * *

**A/N:** Pronounced _ostavat'sya_. Taken from Google translate.


	11. Chapter 11: Sushi For Two

**A/N:** Wow. You guys are amazing! Thank you so much for all your support!

I'm sorry this one took me so long. I wish I had been able to organize my thoughts for it sooner but life has had me distracted. The truth is it's been mostly written for awhile now but it felt off until last night. Thanks to a certain hero, I had to make major revisions to my original outline (Read: I scrapped the entire plan and started over because _someone_ decided _he_ didn't like where it was going). Call it filler, call it a teaser... I hope you enjoy it.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Captain America_. Unbetaed, all mistakes are mine.

* * *

Chapter 11: Sushi For Two

It's been almost a week since his run in with Natasha. The trail on Bucky remains stale and what happened in Austria - how he got lost in the scientists words and was rendered helpless - is one more question unanswered. Poked and prodded like lab rats, he and Black Widow had both been debriefed and medically cleared. At least he assumed she had been, too. He didn't see her again after she walked out of the asylum. He wasn't sure he wants to.

Talking to Sharon on the phone had been relatively painless. The call had been brief, no more than five minutes. They agreed he'd pick her up at 7 and she'd take him to one of her favorite restaurants. Though he has almost no basis for comparison, Steve knows he should be excited about their date. It isn't like the times Bucky set him up with some dame he was trying to date's single friend. It wasn't pity or obligation. To the contrary, he wasn't sure if he'd asked her or she'd asked him. More than likely it was somewhere in between.

At 6, he steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his hips. Looking in the mirror he thinks it's a wonder he doesn't look as old as he feels. Sharon called it charming when he stumbled through the conversation. She said people were too connected and offered to leave her cellphone behind.

By 6:15, he's dressed in standard issue khakis and a plaid button down. He finds himself sitting on the edge of the sofa, twiddling his thumbs. Showing up too soon would be overeager. Bucky always complained that women were never ready on time and advised being a few minutes behind. He didn't want to be late though, he couldn't.

When 6:25 rolls around, he brushes his teeth. Again. It's a nervous habit. They'll be eating dinner for Pete's sake. It's not like she'll be sitting in his lap. Still, it's good manners to have fresh breath. One can never be too prepared.

He leaves his apartment at 6:35. Unsure of how far the restaurant is from her place, he gets about a block and a half before turning around to go back for his motorcycle only to abandon the idea and circle back on foot. He's overthinking it. She knows he doesn't have a car, so he should be in the clear on that, right? Maybe he should've asked.

Military precision. He's in the lobby of her building at 6:55. His palms are sweating. This feels like a mistake. _Everybody needs practice,_ Natasha's voice rings in his ears. Practice. So why does it feel like he's about to go before a firing squad?

He tries to calm himself by taking the stairs. Pausing at the landing, he counts to ten. When that doesn't work, he closes his eyes. All he can see is red. Red hair splayed across his chest. The red lace of a bra peeking from beneath a tank top. Lips of crimson. The hourglass shape on her belt buckle when she's in uniform. Natasha haunts him even with her absence.

It's exactly 7PM when he knocks on Sharon's door. She answers slipping an earring into her lobe and he swallows, blinking at her casual stance. "You look... wow."

A shy smile breaks over her features and she blushes. "Thanks, Ca..." she pauses to correct herself with a sigh. "Thank you, Steve. Just give me a minute to grab my purse and I'll be ready to go."

\- - - Captain America - - -

Sharon Carter isn't stupid. A SHIELD legacy, she's knows something is wrong in the first 28 minutes. Steve Rogers going through the motions. He isn't impolite, he just isn't completely engaged.

Pulling out the chair was expected, he's every bit as old fashioned as they say. It's refreshing to be treated with respect. Conversation was light and she'd gotten him to laugh once or twice. He has a great laugh and a smile that would melt a girl's underpants. That part was pleasant.

But it strikes her as odd that for someone who told her she looked nice - someone who couldn't take his eyes off of her on the mall when she was sweaty and in work out gear - he's barely met her gaze since they left her apartment. She is by no means conceited, but she's used to men holding eye contact. _Especially_ men who are interested. You can always tell when a guy is interested.

At first she writes it off. He's a little shy and out of place, from another era. But then she thinks about how Aunt Peg described him and the parts of his file she's seen. He isn't intimidated by strong, more modern women. He'd been partnered with Black Widow for crying out loud.

_Natasha_. Suddenly it makes sense.

\- - - Captain America - - -

Well, Steve could definitely take sushi off his list. The texture was displeasing. Sticky and raw, it's not unlike his emotions. And to make matters worse, it isn't at all filling. He'd gladly trade his plate for a nice, thick burger. Or some shawarma, which was equally as odd as the fishy delicacy but at least cooked.

Sharon is nice. He stops to think maybe a little too nice. Not that nice is bad, she just doesn't make his pulse race like Peggy or Natasha. Steve mentally chastises himself. He shouldn't be thinking about other women. Sharon deserves his full attention.

They make it through the rest of dinner and he pays the check. Outside, she grabs his hand and half pulls him down the block toward a food truck. Two hot dogs. Mustard and catsup but no onion. Steve blushes in embarrassment when she hands the vendor cash.

"I could hear your stomach growling," she tells him with a laugh. Her eyes twinkle and, for the first time since the night started, he thinks maybe this is going somewhere. "Should've known sushi wouldn't be enough for your metabolism."

His hand finds hers again after he chucks the wrappers into a nearby trashcan. Their fingers tangle. Some of what he felt in the park comes back. He finds himself wishing that he'd been able to relax sooner, wondering if he might still have a chance to make this work.

When they reach the door, Steve smiles bashfully. His hand rides her hip and he leans down. "Thank you," he says, leaning close. Her back is against the door and her dark eyes sparkle in a way that makes him think _why not?_ His nose nudges at her cheek and his lips whisper briefly over hers. It's innocent compared to other kisses he's shared, but it seems right. "For a lovely evening."

\- - - Captain America - - -

Her mind was made up before they even left the restaurant. Long before stopping on the corner to get him a hot dog from the vendor or the awkward kiss at her front door. If anything, what happened after they left only convinced her that the situation was more dire than she originally thought.

After he leaves, Sharon checks her watch to make sure it's not too late for the phone call she wants to make. Time for her to put her own plan into action. The voice on the other end of the line picks up after only two rings.

"Hey," she says quietly, "It's me." Walking to the window, she peers out the curtains and watches Steve make his way down the sidewalk. "That favor you owe Aunt Peg?" Sharon pauses, nipping her lip. This was worth it. He was worth it. "I'm calling it in."

* * *

**A/N:** Some of you are probably hating me for this... but I'm going to ask you to trust that I have a plan. A plan that involves 5 pages of handwritten outline and includes a sequel. That counts for something, right?


	12. Chapter 12: Friends In Low Places

**A/N:** I think I'm going to appoint **BeyondWonder** _Fossil_'s cheerleader. I always feel compelled to write after reading your comments... thank you so much for the inspiration.

If only life had a pause or fast forward button. Sorry for the holiday and sickness induced delay. Nothing is more important than health and family. Hopefully now that things have settled I'll be back to a more regular schedule.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Captain America_. Unbetaed, mistakes are mine.

* * *

Chapter 12: Friends in Low Places

Natasha Romanoff stalks around Clint Barton like a cat contemplating her prey. Sparring was supposed to take her mind off a certain Captain, but the more Hawkeye looks at her the more she thinks his eyes aren't the right shape or shade of blue.

She hasn't seen Steve in more than two weeks, but his words still ring in her ears. _Secrets, lies and running scared. That's what you're good at._

She left because he was mostly right. Secrets and lies were her game. Not just in espionage. Twisting the facts and burying the truth to keep from getting hurt was more than just a necessity of the job. Pretending she doesn't care because it's what's best for him when really she's protecting herself from what she knows would be a painful end for both of them? There's a first time for everything. Love is for children who don't know any better. It isn't for spies.

Running scared though? She's the Black Widow. She isn't afraid of -

"Ooaf..." She's pinned on the floor under her partner with her arms over her head. Her breasts strain against Clint's chest as she tries to reclaim the air he forced from her lungs.

Introspection has never really been her thing. She's always been more of an avoider. Now she knows why. If she can't get Steve out of her head she's going to end up getting herself hurt or, worse, killed. And that defeats the purpose of not getting involved with him.

"Geez, Barton," she huffs before easily flipping their positions and wrestling his back to the mat. "You really oughtta cut back on the cheeseburgers. It's slowing your game."

When he opens his mouth to respond, she shoots him a threatening look. He knows what's on her mind and she doesn't need yet another lecture. Her mouth twitches in satisfaction when he backs down. At least she's won one battle.

They do this dance for a while, switching who's in control with neither completely dominating the other. On their feet again, Natasha sees an opening and takes it only to have Clint anticipate the move and trap her arms to her sides, locking her back against his chest.

"I'm not the one who's slow," he taunts, squeezing her tightly as if to prove a point. "Of all people, he's the one you lie to?"

Okay. So maybe she hadn't won after all.

\- - - Captain America - - -

The bar is dark and quiet. Steve Rogers isn't quite sure why he agreed to come out with Sam Wilson. Maybe it started as being tired of staring at the nearly blank canvas of his living room walls and thinking about the women in his life. Dealing with the fairer sex was far more intimidating than taking on HYDRA.

"So, how'd your date with that nurse go?" his friend asks, tipping his bottle up and looking pointedly at him.

Shifting in his seat, Steve groans as he's reminded of his exchange with Natasha at the cemetery. "She isn't a nurse, she's CIA."

Sam laughs, setting his beer aside and giving the older man a knowing look. He'd heard the man's conversation with the spy. He already knew the blonde wasn't a nurse. He also knew Cap wasn't much for talking about his personal life. "How'd it go? Did you kiss her?"

A blush creeps up Steve's neck and he chooses not to answer. Sam takes the opportunity to rib him gently. "Damn, Cap. You sly dog." He shakes his head with a laugh. "Got two on the ropes."

"It's not like that," Steve objects. His eyes don't lift from the label on his bottle, his thumb toying with the spot where it's begun to peel.

"What is it like then?" Sam asks skeptically, his eyebrows nearly hitting his hairline. His tone is as playful as it was when they first met, the only difference is the bond of their friendship means he actually cares and isn't joking around. "The way I see it, you're making up for lost time with two beautiful women who want you."

Steve laughs awkwardly and mumbles under his breath, "Only one."

He lifts the bottle to his mouth for a long, slow pull. The cool liquid has a slight burn, but his metabolism keeps it from taking the edge off. He thinks to himself, _That's if Sharon is still interested after that farce of a date._

"Seriously, Cap," Sam says as he sips his beer. "Even you couldn't be that awkward. You just need to find your A game and bring it. Plenty of chicks would line up for that old school charm."

Steve sips his own drink only to set it down and rakes a hand through his hair. "Oh, it was worse than awkward. She's a nice girl, Sam, I just..."

Sam nods, leaning against the table and popping a french fry into his mouth. He's casual in the way he lets the words fall from his lips, watching carefully for the other man's reaction. "Some gentlemen prefer blondes, others are into redheads. It's cool."

"That ship has long since sailed," the soldier answers. "Nat and I are too different. We value want things."

\- - - Captain America - - -

"I'm just saying you should've been up front with him is all," Clint says with a shrug as he turns his collar up against the chill of the evening. "But then I said that from the beginning."

Natasha shoves her hands into her coat pockets after sweeping her hair behind her ears. Her tone is icier than area she grew up in. "You aren't going to let this go, are you?"

A smile tugs at Clint's lips. "Nope," he answers.

The pair continue on for a bit in silence, the spy mumbling something under her breath in Russian and shaking her head. There's a part of her that knows he's right - she _should_ talk things out with Steve, if for no other reason than to make things easier on the team. But another part of her knows there's nothing she can do to make up for what she's done, so why does it even matter?

"Are you hungry?" The archer asks suddenly. She could set her watch by that man's stomach.

Not waiting for her to answer, he pulls her into the nearest bar. She looks around for a table, immediately spotting Steve's board shoulders. With a groan, her own slump. "Let's go somewhere else," she says almost pleadingly. "I'm not in the mood for all the noise."

"C'mon, Nat. You know this place has the best wings," Barton answers, pointing to the sign. "And they're on special tonight."

She holds her breath. Too strenuous an objection and he would know something was up. The last thing she wants is for him to get loud and draw attention their way. Mentally, she tells herself to take a deep breath. It won't be that bad. It can't.

And then she sees her. The blonde she had encouraged, if not pushed, into Steve's arms. She's tall, taller than Natasha realized. Together they look perfect and golden.

The bullet? The one that twisted through her insides and limited her swimwear options? Yeah. That's got nothing on this. The pain she feels is excruciating. And growing.

\- - - Captain America - - -

Steve is taken off guard when hands cover his eyes. His initial reaction is to neutralize the threat. Then he smells it. Honeysuckle and jasmine. Sharon's voice hits his ears a moment later. "I'm thinking of a number a certain soldier hasn't called."

Chuckling uncomfortably, Steve looks at Sam who lifts his hands innocently. "Just helping my boy out," he says with a grin. "You two kids have a good night." Patting the captain on the shoulder, he adds. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do with that receptionist."

Steve blushes almost crimson and rubs his neck. He misses the look that flickers between his companions. Without missing a beat, Sharon smiles and dips in close. "Relax, Cap," she whispers with a flutter of lashes. "I don't bite." Her breath is warm against his mouth as she leans in and steals a soft kiss, her teeth tugging softly at his bottom lip. "Not hard anyway."

\- - - Captain America - - -

Several hours later...

His back is to the door when she enters the darkened room, but his silhouette is clear in the moonlight streaming through a nearby window. She would know him anywhere, the cut of his suit almost as familiar as the sound of his voice. "Were you followed?"

Sharon laughs and tucks her hair behind her ear. "It was one time and I was fresh out of..."

Phil Coulson's smile is electric when he spins around. "They don't know I'm alive. Fury thought it was for the best."

The blonde crosses her arms over her chest, her own suit jacket tightening across her shoulders. "They don't need to know. I didn't know who else to call."

"They will," Coulson's answers, pulling an envelope from the pocket of his jacket. "In time." Pausing thoughtfully, the agent's brows furrow. "What I don't understand is why you made _this_ the favor I owe her."

With a swallow, she sighs and shakes her head. "I know you'd have done it for him, but this is for her too, you know. She'd want him to be happy."

"I hope you know what you're doing, kiddo," he answers, pecking her on the forehead and pressing the envelope into her palm. "We all want Captain Rogers to be happy." Brushing past her, he heads for a door she hadn't noticed. "Everything you need is in there."

"Hey, Phil?" she calls out. He turns back for a moment, his mouth tipping up at the corners. Tapping the packet against her palm, she knows she's got her work cut out for her. "Thanks."

* * *

**A/N: **Okay. I know I'm in trouble. The question is how much...


	13. Chapter 13: Agent 13 and the Plan

**A/N:** A few special messages...

To **beyondwonder **\- My smile is almost as wide as the breadth of Cap's shoulders. Thanks for being patient and sticking with me.

To **GunBunnyShift** \- Soon enough for you? You'll have to let me know if this qualifies as a cliffy... *Shifty.*

To **Qweb** \- There _will _be a payoff. Eventually.

To **RPM Shadow** \- I've enjoyed our PMs. Thank you for your support and good luck with your writing!

To **Mystewitch** \- Sorry for disappointing you... Maybe this will make up for it? And yes. I'm baaaaaaack!

To **Kelsingra** \- Thanks and I'm sorry? Yeah, not really sorry about the cliffhangers. We've got at least 7 more chapters (and *gasp* an EXTRA LARGE cliffhanger) before we get to the sequel.

To **supesfan18 **\- Life happens. If I could update as often as I wanted, the sequel would be done. I try to make it worth the wait, but, sadly, life happens.

To the rest of you - Happy reading!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Captain America_. Unbetaed, mistakes are mine.

* * *

Chapter 13: Agent 13 and the Plan

"Dude, did you see the look on Romanoff's face?" Sam asks, his grin spreading as he crosses his arms over his chest. "I mean damn..."

Clint chuckles uncomfortably. "You do know she's a trained assassin, right?" The archer leans against the wall and uses a pocket knife to cut an apple. "Cornering her like that could come back to bite all of us."

Sharon drops a duffle bag at their feet before sweeping her hair back into a ponytail. "It proved my theory, didn't it?" she asks the men. "And I'm letting you two do the easy part."

The guys just stand there for a minute and the blonde rolls her eyes. "Did one of you want to let Captain Rogers in on the plan? Because I'm pretty sure he's going to be as scary as you think Romanoff is if not worse."

"She does have a point," Clint groans. "I was just telling Nat Rogers does better with honesty."

Sam shrugs. "I'm not ashamed of anything we've done." He laughs sheepishly. "If this doesn't work out we've got insurance, right?"

"Gee, Sam," Sharon teases. "I didn't peg you as the one who would back down from the fight."

"Think of it more as looking for an exit strategy."

Blowing out a breath, Sharon looks at her watch. "You guys have 3 hours to get things set up. The team should be here in 10 minutes."

"Any chance we could just lock them in a room together instead?" Clint asks seriously.

Her eyes flick to him and she ignores the comment completely. "I need you to get Romanoff out of her apartment by 1800. Unless you hear otherwise, make sure she's back there by 1900. Got it?"

He nods and chucks his apple core into the trash without missing. "Got it."

Next, she turns to Sam. "You got my pictures?"

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Sam pulls out an envelope and puts it in her outstretched hand. "I hope you know what you're doing."

There's a bounce in Sharon's step as she turns to walk away, grabbing a garment bag. "So do I, Sam," she says over her shoulder. "So do I."

\- - - Captain America - - -

Steve knocks on Sharon's door with a tentative fist. He'd been stunned when she kissed him and felt torn after he walked her home. His gut churns with anxiety as he waits for her to answer.

Should he have brought flowers? Would that have sent the wrong message? What message is he even trying to send? Things were so much easier in his time.

"Hi," she says quietly when she opens the door. There's a brief pause where she leans against the jam that makes him feel more confident. It seems like she's no more sure than he is. "Come in."

They walk into her living room and it's awkward because he isn't sure if he should touch her or where he should even begin trying to explain how he feels. He takes the seat offered and watches her flit like a hummingbird into the kitchen where she pours two glasses of milk. It seems like an odd choice, if not comfortable and familiar.

"Listen, Steve..."

"Sharon, I..." he laughs when they talk over each other before offering a shy smile. "You go first."

Settling on the edge of the coffee table, she hands him a glass. It takes a minute for her to get comfortable and he starts to worry something's wrong - that he's said or done something to let her know what's on his mind.

"I have a confession." The words are careful and her dark eyes lock on his.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like what you have to say?" he asks, his eyebrows furrowing and lifting as his mouth tightens into an uneasy smile.

"Because you won't," she admits, sipping from her glass. "The truth is running into you on the mall wasn't an accident. I knew where you'd be because Natasha told me."

He may not speak to her after this, but she's leaving it all on the field. Opening the book next to her, she reaches for the photo she tucked inside. "She wanted me to seduce you," she tells him. "And at first I thought it was just that the rumors about her trying to find you a date were true."

Shifting, she moves to sit beside him without letting him see the picture in her grip. "It's not hard for a woman to tell when a man is thinking about someone else," Sharon says softly.

"How long have you known?" he asks, his eyes cast downward.

"That you're in love with her?" she answers, a smile playing at the edges of her mouth. "Or that she loves you back?"

He stands up defensively, moving to the window and staring out at the DC skyline. "That's where you're wrong. She doesn't care about me." He runs his fingers through his hair and she can see the young man her aunt spoke so fondly of. In that moment, he isn't Captain America, he's a skinny kid from Brooklyn. "I'm sorry, Sharon. I..."

"You sure about that?" Standing next to him she hands him the picture. It isn't what's in the foreground that gets his attention. He remembers the way Sharon kissed him, how it made him feel empty when he should've been thrilled. It's what's in the background, the part of the scene that was behind him.

He's seen Natasha Romanoff sexy; he's seen her beaten up after a fight and being a smart ass. What he hasn't seen much of is the side she desperately keeps hidden: the vulnerable girl behind the mask of confidence. The pain in her eyes makes his knees wobble.

"I want you to do something for me, Steve," her voice is soft and she looks at him like he's a hero when he feels as broken as the woman in the photograph. "I want you to go to her and be the guy who won't take no for an answer, the one who went to multiple enlistment offices despite rejection."

He straightens a bit, his eyes never leaving Natasha's face. "That's the man she needs," Sharon adds, bumping her shoulder against his. "I have it on good authority he's pretty irresistible."

His Adam's apple bobs and he frowns. "Maybe it's better this way."

Grabbing his arm, Sharon pulls him toward another room. "Or maybe you need to suit up and take a chance."

"Where did you get this?" he asks, unable to keep his feet from carrying him to the edge of the bed where his dress uniform - or some replica of it - is laid out next to a large box.

Sharon stays at the door. "Let's just leave it at a friend," she replies with a glance at her watch. "Get dressed, old man. You've got a date."

\- - - Captain America - - -

Steve settles into the overstuffed chair in the corner of Natasha's living room that faces the door. A glass of vodka hangs from his fingers. It's a prop really. He can't get drunk, but somehow holding the liquor as he loosens the vintage tie around his neck is oddly comforting.

He's played this out at least a hundred times since he left Sharon's and the version he's settled on is a little unnerving. It's not his typical approach, but to move forward you have to be willing to adapt. He's not entirely sure he can pull it off, but the key in the lock tells him it's now or never.

The spy enters the hallway shuffling through some mail, seemingly oblivious to his presence. She doesn't turn on more lights or seem concerned for her safety. A ring of her cellphone pierces the silence.

"I checked it out," she sighs, the irritation in her voice plain. "It's not a threat. If you ask me, it was a waste of my time. Why didn't you go yourself?"

There's a lamp next to him and Steve chooses that moment to flip it on. Natasha blinks at him in confusion, her eyes wandering over his attire as her mouth drops open. "I'm going to have to call you back." Not saying goodbye, she hangs up the phone. "Steve? What are you doing here?"

Setting the glass aside, he stands and towers over her. His fingers wrap around her wrist and he removes the device from her palm. "Something I should've done a long time ago," he answers.

She opens her mouth to protest and the soldier shakes his head as he tosses the phone onto the sofa before wrapping his arms around her waist. "I talk. You listen."

He waits for her to nod in agreement. There's a long moment when he's positive she's going to pull away, but she surprises him. From the look on her face he's guessing he's not the only one who's unsure. _Good,_ he thinks to himself. _About time we are playing on an even field._

"_Я тебя хочу_," he whispers, leaning in. Their noses bump and he can almost taste the coffee on her breath. There is no hesitation, no flicker of doubt. He lowers his mouth to hers and steals their collective breath. It's neither soft nor delicate, but it isn't hard. It's firm, commanding and demanding.

When he draws back to furrowed brows and a look of confusion, he strokes his thumb over the apple of her cheek and stares into the mossy green of her eyes. "Did you hear me, Natasha?" Breathing shallow, he feels like he's having an asthma attack. His heart constricts as he buries his hand in her hair. "I..." A whispered kiss. "Want..." Another, this one deeper. His tongue delves into the velvet mocha of her mouth and he moans. She's been drinking one of those fancy coffees he can't stand. But tasting it on her is making him think differently. "You."

A soft chuckle escapes and he releases her. "There's a dress on your bed and I've drawn you a bath," he tells her. "Don't keep me waiting too long."

Picking up the glass, he takes a swallow of the liquor. "And Natasha?" He adds as an afterthought. She turns back to face him, her lips sensually kiss swollen. "From here on out, we're doing this my way. Without questions or objections." His brows lift, his tongue wetting his lower lip. "And no more setting me up with other women."

* * *

**A/N:** To quote Pietro, "I bet you didn't see that coming."

Easter Egg: There's an intentional grammar mistake that's a spoiler for the future. PM me if you think you found it.

Until next time...


	14. Chapter 14: Unforgettable

**A/N:** Hey, **LilyRose14**? I think you may be onto something... don't rat me out though, okay?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Captain America_ or the song _Unforgettable_. Unbetaed, all mistakes are mine.

* * *

Chapter 14: Unforgettable

Her hands tremble as she unbuttons her blouse. Green eyes wet with unshed tears flick from her reflection to the tub. Natasha grips the marble edge of the vanity trying to center herself and settle her nerves.

This is ridiculous. She shouldn't be coming undone over this, him. It's not who she is. Or it wasn't.

Certain people come into your life and turn your world upside down. For Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers is one of those people. She tried to make it a game, tried to sweep it under the rug by sending him to Sharon. But it happened anyway and she isn't quite sure how to cope.

It takes longer than it should to pin her hair up and finish getting undressed. She can count the number of times she's used this garden tub on one hand and still have fingers left over. Baths - however comforting they might be - made her feel vulnerable.

But no one has ever done _this_ for her. Drawn her a bath and left the room smelling like an apple orchard. No man has ever taken command and told her what to do the way Steve had either. If it had been anyone but the captain - Dare she think it? _Her_ Captain. - she likely would've laid him flat.

Wrapping her arms around her bare body, she dips a toe into the water. One foot finds the bottom and then the other. The water is perfect - not so hot it stings like the showers she's taken to remind her she's still alive, nor cold like the ones she's taken trying to chase away her arousal. It welcomes her like his embrace, swallowing her senses and forcing her eyes closed.

And she draws a breath. A soft sob catches in her throat. _Can I do this?_ she questions herself. _Can I be what he needs?_

Before it didn't matter. Before it was part of her web. Now she's gotten herself tangled in the middle of everything she's spent years avoiding.

Taking the cloth from the edge of the tub, she washes her neck. She doesn't feel like she's drowning. She doesn't feel any of the things she thought she might. What she does feel is...

A knock on the door - the barest rap of knuckles - followed by the soft, surprisingly shy tone of his voice draws her out of the battle in her head. "You okay in there?"

Turning, she sees he's cracked the door and she leans against the edge of the tub. The normally sultry tone of her voice is even deeper when she crooks a finger and beckons. "Don't just stand there, come wash my back."

His smile makes her tingle, warmth filling her belly as she watches broad shoulders flex as he sheds his jacket. There's power in his forearms as he lifts them in turn to roll up his sleeves. Tugging and his pants' legs, he sinks to his knees and lowers himself to her eye level.

The way he takes the rag, stroking it softly over her upper shoulders and upper back isn't what knocks her off guard. When she looks at him, their eyes connecting and holding, the blue is startling. His gaze is intent, hot. She can't catch her breath. But it's the words that do it. "You're so beautiful."

The cloth drops from his hand and splashes softly into the tub, dropping beneath the bubbles. His fingers trace up her back and she shivers. She aches to kiss him, a question falling from her lips unexpectedly. "So we're doing this then?"

Straightening to his full height, Steve dries his hands on a towel before unfolding it and holding it out for her. Natasha stands up, bubbles and water running down her skin. She feels his eyes briefly before he politely looks away and wraps the fluffy, terry cloth around her frame. "You're allowed to look, you know."

He chuckles softly, a light blush staining his cheeks as he rolls his sleeves back into place and secures them. After collecting his jacket, he presses a kiss to her forehead. His voice is full of desire when he finally answers, "Not if we plan to leave the apartment." Moving toward the door, he adds. "Some friends went to a lot of trouble setting tonight up. We should probably enjoy it."

\- - - Captain America - - -

Steve has to work to compose himself when he leaves the bathroom. For the first time in a long time, his fingers itch with the urge to create. If he wasn't looking forward to spending the evening with Natasha, he'd be sketching her in the tub. As it is, he can't get the image out of his mind.

Red hair he knows feels like silk around his fingers piled high on her head to keep it dry. Green eyes peering over her shoulder at him as she invited him into the room. The sheen of her fair skin and the elegant curve of her back as it disappeared beneath the water. She could be a mermaid or a fairy queen, she already haunts his dreams.

She's perfectly imperfect, but then he's come to realize the when it comes to the right partner it's more about being perfect for each other. And she is. She's the other half of his whole, if only she would just realize it.

Twenty minutes she comes out of her room and he's sure his heart stops. The vintage dress is a deep cobalt blue. Its skirt is wide and stops just below the knee. Paired with red, patten leather pumps that boost her height, the only other accessory she wears is a skinny black belt with a large spider clasp. The body of the arachnid is a large ruby gemstone that sparkles when it catches the light, drawing attention to her slender waist and the curve of her hips.

Steve can't help the low whistle that passes his lips and she blushes shyly before taking his arm. A plunging neckline lends a modern flare and makes it more perfect for the woman who wears it. She's even done her hair in pin up fashion. "You look..."

"Easy, soldier," she teases huskily. "I don't think it'd take much to convince you to stay in."

\- - - Captain America - - -

Still in awe that Sharon managed to run down a Lucky Star taxi, Steve isn't sure what to expect when the vehicle pulls to a stop outside of an old hall. He gets out and offers a hand to Natasha, momentarily distracted by the press of her curves to his body when she joins him.

Tables scatter around the edge of the room with crisp, white linens. Small arrangements of pastel peonies, daisies and wild roses provide a splash of color and decoration. Natasha's heels clap against the hardwood floor at their feet and they glance up when the deep red curtain at the end of the room parts. A USO banner unfurls and a spotlight illuminates a big band and its singer.

The woman hugs the boom of an old fashioned microphone. Instruments come to life as notes of a slow song fill the room.

\- - - Captain America - - -

_"You know I still don't know how to dance."_

_"I'll show you how. Just be there."_

_"We'll have the band play something slow... I'd hate to step on your..."_

\- - - Captain America - - -

Missed opportunities. Chances not taken. Love lost. He'd almost lost not once but twice. His heart is beating just a little too loudly. Unable to hear over the rush of blood pounding behind his ears, he becomes lost in the past.

Natasha's hand slips into Steve's. She remembers the question she asked him at Sam's what seems like an eternity ago. _If it was the other way around and it was down to me to save your life, would you trust me to do it?_

This isn't life or death. They aren't in combat. But caring for someone means pulling them back and saving them from themselves. He's done it for her and it's her turn to rescue him.

"Hey..." she says, cupping his face and drawing his eyes to hers. She doesn't ask who he wants her to be because she already knows his answer: herself. "You think a spider can teach a fossil how to dance?"

His smile is grateful and she leans up on tiptoe to kiss him gently. The barest brush of lips isn't enough, but for modesty's sake she keeps it brief. The singer's tone is smoky, it wraps around them as they hold each other.

_Unforgettable, that's what you are. _From the moment they met on the deck of the hellicarrier. She tried to forget it, to push it aside. It was thoughts of Steve, not Clint, that lead her to say love was for children.

_Unforgettable, though near or far. _His hand tightens on her waist and he draws a breath, inhaling the scent of her hair as she tucks herself closer. A shiver runs down his spine when her fingers stroke through the short hair on the back of his neck. He craves this, her closeness. They've been too far apart.

_Like a song of love that clings to me, how the thought of you does things to me. Never before has someone been more._ Impossible. Before she met Steven Grant Rogers, she would've told you that it was foolish and impossible to believe someone could mean so much. Attachment was dangerous. It made you vulnerable, opened you to getting hurt. But being in his arms she sees that sometimes vulnerability is the deepest kind of strength.

_Unforgettable in every way. And forevermore, that's how you'll stay. _As long as there is breath in his body, he will fight to feel the way he does now. He'll work to keep her hand in his and make her feel cherished. He was stupid to try and move on. Sharon was right. Natasha just needed someone to fight for her. He's determined to be that, to give her that.

_That's why, darling, it's incredible that someone so unforgettable thinks that I am unforgettable, too. _The man who holds her is a symbol for everything that is good and right. He makes her want to be better. And for some reason she can't fathom... he wants to be with her. Her heart is full to bursting with new feelings that she doesn't understand.

The music swells and Steve spins Natasha out before dipping her back. The two laugh and her eyes twinkle when her hand returns to the back of his neck. "I thought you couldn't..." she says quietly.

Steve's lips twitch. The memory is beautiful if not painful. He shrugs a bit. "On her good days, Peggy can get out of bed," he confesses. "She taught me a little and we finally shared that dance I owed her." Leaning in close, he hushes against the spy's ear. "She was right, you know."

_No, never before has someone been more... Ooh, unforgettable. In every way. _Her pulse quickens and the hair on the back of her neck prickles. The words he breathes against her neck are almost lost beneath the velvet of the singer's voice and her accompaniment. "Having the right partner makes all the difference."

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**A/N:** I have to admit this one gave me the warm and fuzzies. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.

Stay tuned for more romance. *Winks.* Until next time...


	15. Chapter 15: At Last

**A/N:** I blame **Qweb** for putting part of this in my head. Thank you all, so much, for your continued support of this story despite my unintentional delays. Your thoughts and reviews inspire me so much!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Captain America_ or the referenced songs. Unbetaed, all mistakes are mine.

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Chapter 15: At Last

_"Remember those walls I built? Well, baby, they're tumbling down. Didn't even put up a fight, didn't even make a sound." - Halo_

Winter 1942

Project Rebirth was a success. The scrawny kid from Brooklyn was transformed into a strapping hero, only he didn't feel heroic. Instead of doing what Abraham Erskine intended, Steve Rogers was performing as part of a dog and pony show.

He wanted to _do_ something, to be a part of the fight. He was no less a joke than he was before everything changed. This was quite possibly worse. He now had the body for the tasks he ached to take on and he was wasting it selling war bonds. Even Peggy Carter had gone to the front lines.

_Peggy_. He remembers the conversation he had with her in the backseat of the cab like it was yesterday.

_"You have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?"_

_"I think this is the longest conversation I've had with one. Women aren't exactly lining up to dance with a guy they might step on."_

There's a singer on the stage. She's backed by a band, the smoky sounds of clarinets, saxophones and trombones with bass and piano rounding things out. They aren't half bad, but it's nothing like things on Coney Island and the dances Bucky dragged him to. Not that he has someone to dance with anyway.

He sits in a corner of the USO hall wondering how long he's got to stick it out. Things like this make him uncomfortable, but he's become bored with sitting in random hotel rooms. That and his sketchbook has grown heavy with sketches of people he isn't sure he'll ever see again. Getting out seemed like a good idea at the time.

One of the dancers from the chorus line bops over to him and he groans as she giggles, clumsily tumbling into his lap. She's had a little too much champagne and he catches her simply to keep her from slipping to the floor. If he remembers right, her name is Susan and she's from Kalamazoo. She's easy on the eyes, but her hair is too light and her mouth is the wrong shape.

"C'mon, Stevie," the blond says, tugging at his tie before ruffling her fingers through his hair. Women are all over him now. His best friend may've lived for this kind of thing, but he's more than how he looks and that's all they see when they look at him: America's golden boy. "Dance with me."

"Thanks, but I'll pass," he says with an awkward laugh. "I might step on your toes." He doesn't even bother to look at her as he helps her up, not even as she tries to pull his face into her cleavage. _I'm waiting for the right partner,_ he thinks to himself.

"Early start tomorrow. I think it's time for me to turn in." With a tight smile he gives her a little nod and stands, pushing his chair in and heading for the door alone. "Ma'am."

\- - - Captain America - - -

Present Day

The tempo of the music has progressed from slow to upbeat. Dancing has become physical and Steve dares to try moves he's seen but never had a partner for. Natasha is quick to keep up, moving her feet and shaking her hips to the lively swing music.

The jitterbug, the jive. Twirling her out and back. Lifting her as though she weighs nothing, because to him she doesn't. Fancy footwork and wide smiles. Her cheeks are flushed and she's breathless. Watching her is intoxicating and, after a while, the band seems to sense their need for something slow as they come chest to chest, staring into each other's eyes.

Or he thinks they do until he's tapped on the shoulder by a young man in black tie. Then Steve realizes he's lost track of time. "Captain Rogers, Ms. Romanoff," stiff and formal, the waiter offers a slight bow and gestures to a table laid out with flowers and a candlelight meal. "Dinner is served."

They walk off the floor, their fingers linked and hands swinging between them. Steve pauses a step ahead, pulling out Natasha's chair and holding it for her.

"You aren't a bad dancer, you know?" she says in little more than a whisper. Her fingers flirt with his hand as it lands briefly on her shoulder and there's a catch to her breath.

He chuckles, settling into his own seat and unfolding his napkin across his lap. The smile he offers is open and relaxed. _This feels good. More than that, it feels right._ "You aren't so bad yourself."

Modern food isn't anything like what he ate growing up. Nothing on the menu has been boiled. The steak is melt-in-your-mouth tender and the potatoes are salt rubbed and baked. Salad and soup, fresh vegetables. It's the kind of meal a guy dreams about when he's in the mud. The kind he never thought he would have again.

It's not like he hasn't had a decent meal. Since awakening 70 years in the future, he's been dragged to fancy restaurants and ordered some pretty amazing takeout. But nothing this decadent. Nothing quite like sitting next to a beautiful dame - _woman_ \- and sharing good food and small talk. Truth be told, he hates eating alone now more than he used to as a boy the nights his mom worked late. And Natasha looks so pretty he isn't sure what they're eating matters as much as the fact they're together.

She's quiet as the waiter clears their plates and sets out dessert. Almost too quiet. And it's odd because while he's used to her silence, he isn't used to the contemplative way her brows knit together as the plates are cleared away. That's the scary part, the fact that she's thinking and he isn't sure what's on her mind.

"I'd say a penny for your thoughts," he prods gently, picking at a slice of apple pie before abandoning his fork and sitting forward in his chair. The arm of his suit coat is dark olive against the snowy white of the tablecloth as he reaches for her, his hand laying palm up near hers. "But they're worth more than that."

Natasha fiddles with the elegant stem of her wine glass, swirling the remaining ruby liquid in the vessel nervously. She looks at him with a lost expression. "I have a confession," she tells him. He loves the slight rasp of her voice, the way he can _hear_ the difference in how she talks to him when they're working and the private purr of her tone now. "And I swear, Rogers, if you laugh at me..."

Steve's lips twitch and he wiggles his fingers until she slips her hand into his. He smiles at her, a warm grin spreading across his chiseled features. "So serious."

"It _is_ serious, Steve," she answers, swallowing a lump of emotion she isn't used to feeling. Her own smile fades. Confessions are dangerous. The consequences can be deadly. It's something she knows all too well.

\- - - Captain America - - -

Russia, 1991

A little girl dances across the grass in the courtyard. She wears a white dress that is little more than a nightgown and her brown hair hangs in braids over her shoulders. Her feet are bare because it's summertime and she hates shoes.

"Talia, Talia! You must come see!" Her smile is bright as she grabs her friend's hand.

The younger girl humors her, but looks around with caution. "Katya, we can't get caught. You know what will happen if..."

There is mischief in Katya's eyes and Natasha isn't sure which consequence would be worse - facing punishment from the staff or enduring her friend's wrath. So far they have gotten away with it. They have managed to keep from being discovered and forced to fight one another. No attachments. It's the rule.

There's a bush in the side yard near the dormitory. Natasha's heart flutters as she hears the soft mewling sound coming from beneath the branches. An orange kitten sticks its head out, peering up at them with the bluest eyes She has ever seen.

For the first time she didn't feel like a trapped orphan. She was a part of something, someone counted on her for care. And she did. She cared for the kitten, bringing it scraps of bread to eat and sneaking water from the bathroom in her tiny cupped hands for it to drink.

It went on for a month, perhaps a little more. Natasha was constantly afraid she would get caught, but the way the tiny cat snuggled into her arms made the risk worthwhile.

Until one day it wasn't anymore.

A dark smile crept across Katya's face as she stroked the downy fur on the animal's head where it lounged in the other child's lap. "Do you love it?" she asked.

Natasha nodded and cuddled the kitten close. She was almost seven. Her ginger colored hair was three shades darker than the cat's and more red than orange. The dress she wore that day was black.

"If you love it, you'll break its neck," Katya's voice was chilling and caused Natasha to blink in confusion.

"No," she answered quickly, tripping to get up when the bigger girl tore the kitten from her arms. "You can't make me."

"Love is for children, Natalia," Katya said cruelly. "Don't be a baby."

"I won't. I won't do it."

And she didn't. She watched in horror as the other child twisted the little cat mercilessly. Two weeks later, she got her first kill when she did the same to Katya in front of the entire class.

\- - - Captain America - - -

Watching her pet die was the last time she remembered crying before leaving Steve in the chapel. The pain - the fear of complete loss and abandonment - is very real. She's taken aback when his thumb swipes a tear away.

"Hey," he says gently, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. "It can't be that bad."

She sniffles and accepts the folded material, trying to banish the doubts creeping in. "I've never..." she starts. In the end she doesn't say what's written on her heart. Baby steps. She starts with something small. Something that makes her tears look irrational. "This is the first time I've really been on a date."

Steve turns his chair to face hers. He leans forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees as he takes both of her hands into his own. "Guess we've both got a lot of time to make up for then."

He squeezes her hands, massaging with his thumbs, and she struggles to lift her eyes to meet his. "What if I don't know how to be happy?"

"Forget the past. Forget everything else." Pushing to his feet, he smiles. "Are you happy now?" She can't help but nod softly. "Me, too," he answers, pulling her up. "Do me the honor of one last dance?"

The words are simple, yet with one question he reinforces what she's had a hard time admitting to herself: he's her partner and he'll always be there to pick her up. She smiles genuinely and squeezes his hand, "It would be my pleasure."

Natasha goes into his arms as if she were made to be there. Her head rests under his chin as a slow song filters into the air around them. His palm rides her lower back at an annoyingly respectful level and she presses as tightly to him as she can get.

Close. So close she can hear his heart thundering as surely as she feels her own beating wildly against his chest. So close she could easily lose where he ends and she begins.

_I found a dream, that I could speak to._ He twirls her out, her skirt feathering and fanning out around her legs as he pulls her back into his embrace. So what if they seem to fight more than they actually talk? "Hey, Steve?"

_A dream that I can call my own._ She isn't what he thought he'd want. She's bold and more than a little brazen. She does things to him - to his heart - he'd never thought possible. He wants her. He wants her more than his next breath.

_I found a thrill to press my cheek to._ And he does. He presses his cheek to her hair, his lips brushing her cheek. A thrill that I have never known. His voice is low and roughened by desire. "Yeah, Nat?"

Natasha lifts her face, her emerald eyes sparkling. The fall of her lashes is shy and vulnerable. Steve raises his hand and strokes the line of her jaw tenderly. "In case I forget, thank you for tonight."

_You smile, you smile. Oh and then the spell was cast._ She has witchcraft in her lips. Her soft smile makes his stomach flip flop. _And here we are in heaven._

Drawing a breath, he fills his lungs with the scent of her. He leans in and his fingers curl around her neck. He wants to tell her it wasn't all him, that they owe so many of their friends for pulling this together, but he doesn't. He can't. He's too lost in the depths of her eyes. The music swells, the final verse of the song hanging on the air between their lips. _For you are mine at last._

He doesn't want the night to end, but he knows it has to. The singer and her accompanying musicians, wait staff clearing the table and cleaning up the edges of the room. He wants to kiss her but his sense of propriety says now isn't the time or place.

His hand travels from the curve of her throat over her shoulder and down her arm. Rather than steal her lips, he presses his own to her forehead and tucks her hand into the crook of his arm. "It's late. We should go."

Anticipation. The brush of his hands as he helps her slip into her coat, the soft pass of his thumb against her wrist. It's electric. She feels the current zipping through her body.

Impatience. The car moves too slowly through the DC streets. It jostles them together and nearly lands her in his lap at one point. She wishes it had, that he would hold more than her hand and take possession of her mouth. She needs the contact, craves it.

A chance - the glimmering prospect that this is going somewhere she didn't want or intend but now desires with her entire being - at having everything she was conditioned to live without. Well, almost. There was still the matter of...

"You're a million miles away," he says suddenly. The cab stops in front of her building and he extends his hand to help her out.

Natasha shakes Steve off, smiling brightly. "Just in awe of tonight," she answers as they enter the lobby. Her arm laces through his and she leans kittenishly against him. "I mean you..."

In the elevator, he finally breaks and bends the rest of the way to capture her lips in a bruising kiss. Their tongues tangle briefly and his hand fists in her slightly curled locks. She pops up on her toes reflexively, her arms winding around his neck on a sigh.

How long does it take an elevator to go up six floors? If you're Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers, the answer is not long enough. The doors ping and slide open, leaving her to mumble breathlessly when he stands stock still. "Come in. Stay for a while."

His thumb strokes her jaw, his nose bumping hers as he steals another kiss. "Pack a bag," he instructs. The next kiss is deeper and he flails an arm out to keep the doors from closing.

"Where we going?" she whimpers against his mouth.

He smiles as he looks down at the sheer artistry of her smeared lipstick and wild eyes. Knowing he could stay but choosing to play the long game, he lets his tongue roll over his bottom lip. That he can still taste her is thrilling. "I thought we agreed no questions."

"I don't know what to..."

He cuts her off, pulling her hard against his body and leaving her senseless. "I'll be back at 0900." Releasing her, he allows the doors to separate them. His blue eyes glint in a way that makes her heart shudder. "Be ready for me."

* * *

**A/N: **Umm, yeah. That really just happened. And I need a cold shower. I'm loving Commanding!Steve. *Swoons.*

What does Steve he in store for Natasha? Is she ready for it? Stay tuned and find out!

As a housekeeping matter, the next one may take me a little time to pull together. I promise to update as soon as I can make what's in my head happen.

Until next time...


	16. Chapter 16: Fossil Makes a Pass

**A/N:** Sorry for yet another delay. I meant to have this up for Valentine's Day. According to the doctor, I've had "a really bad cold that won't go away" for about a month and work has zapped the remaining energy I've had for just about everything else.

This one is for **TantalizingTwilightFan**. Friend, writing partner elsewhere, supporter and muse; someone I'd be lost without. If not for your demands (**NOTE:** plural, there have been more than one) that I "do something creative," I still might be working out the kinks on this chapter. Sweetheart, I think the last month has taught me I need to be better at listening to you because in 8 months, you've almost always been right. I'm slow on the uptake, but thankfully you stick with me anyway. You rock and I adore you.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Captain America_. Unbetaed all mistakes are mine.

* * *

Chapter 16: Fossil Makes a Pass

They say it sneaks up on you. That it happens when you aren't looking for and least expect it. But is it a tingle or a bite? A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering to life in your belly and tickling your insides? Is it a stampede of wild horses beneath your wrist at the slightest touch? Or waking up alone and still feeling the pressure of a kiss that ended hours ago? How do you know when you're falling in love? Well, that all depends on who you ask...

Steve doesn't sleep when he goes home. At least not at first. He undresses carefully, putting his uniform away and straightening up behind himself like always. There's too much on his mind for sleep and his fingers itch to release the vision behind his eyelids.

He crosses the room with a purposeful stride. There's a sketchbook and a drawer of random art supplies he's never used. When he received them, he saw it as a retirement offering rather than something to enjoy. There were too many dangers in the world to focus on simpler things even though simple is more _him_.

Switching on the bedside lamp, he retrieves the largest pad and a box of oil pastels. It starts as a series of simple lines - the curves of her neck, her shoulders and spine; the line of her jaw and the slope of the tub surrounding her. But the picture doesn't really come together until he adds the flame of her hair, softening the heavy strands into wisps with the tips of his fingers. That and the green pools of her sparkling eyes really make the likeness true to the beauty who haunts his thoughts.

Color stains his palms and wrists, it dyes his hands with shades of life. There's a difference between going through the motions and actually living, between drawing oxygen into your lungs and breathing. He truly began to thaw the day he met her and his life started again when she shocked his system with the barest brush of her lips on that escalator.

He's been planning the date he wants to take her on since he took her to bed. It's a melting pot of his world and hers. The best things in life don't change, they simply grow and evolve with time. And as Steve looks at the image he's created - the raw embers of where tonight started, fear fading to euphoria - he hopes they can do that, too.

\- - - Captain America - - -

Natasha twists in sleep warmed sheets as sunlight filters through the blinds. Her fingertips brush her lips and the short, satin slip she wears slinks against her skin in a lover's caress. She can still feel Steve's lips even now, hours after he left her. Though she didn't think so last night, in the dawn of a new day it's sweeter this way. Giving her space to collect her space fanned the flames rather than giving her a chance to smother her feelings by overindulging.

Taking a shower doesn't change anything. Maybe it's because she can see him standing there in his uniform, holding her towel without looking and being a perfect gentleman even though he'd already seen her bare. There's a difference between being naked and showing skin. She knows that now. Steve exposed her vulnerability but at the same time stripped away her fears. She was alone last night and yet she slept deeper and more peacefully than she could remember ever doing in the past. It was different. New.

Tipping her head back, she lets the shower spray soak her hair. She finds her hands flirting with her lips, her jawline, her chin. Her eyes close and she wishes he was behind her, massaging shampoo into her scalp and kissing her neck.

She reaches out and turns the temperature up just a little higher. He's so warm, high metabolism causing heat to radiate from his body. She's supposed to be made of ice, she was trained not to feel. And he undoes all of that simply by being himself. He's everything that's good and right. Everything she isn't in a way that unexpectedly compliments. Partners. Friends. Lovers. The other half of each other's whole.

A shiver of anticipation races along her spine and causes her hips to wiggle at the thought of what he might have planned. Whatever it was, 9AM couldn't come soon enough.

\- - - Captain America - - -

It's amazing how three hours of sleep can feel like a full night when you wake up with something to look forward to. Steve's lips twitch when he sees the sketch laying next to him. The light streaming through the curtains caresses Natasha's features and makes the pastel lines of her hair look almost real.

It's easy to get up, even if he doesn't have time for a run. Color stains the white of his tshirt, brightening the bare canvas of his world the way she has. And he isn't at all sorry for the way he fell asleep.

_Someday_, he tells himself. Someday in the not so distant future, maybe he'd be waking up next to the real thing. He wants to earn it, to make her want it just as badly and be able to close his eyes without fear she won't be there in the morning.

He showers quickly, mentally ticking off things on his 'To Do' list. Khaki pants and a button down, comfortable shoes. He grabs his jacket and heads out the door without a second thought. He's too nervous to worry about his regular routine.

Stopping near her building, he ditches the bike at the curb and walks to the nearby grocery store. He intends to simply grab a small bouquet of assorted flowers, but ends up with an armload of fresh fruit and assorted breakfast items. Maybe skipping the meal was a bad idea.

Next, Steve stops at the coffee cart on the corner. He shifts the brown bag in his arms and pulls his wallet as he waits his turn in line. "One of those fancy cinnamon lattes and a black coffee, please."

Paying for the drinks is easier than juggling all the items in his hold. The walk back to Natasha's apartment is awkward, but he feels like a regular guy. It's nice to be Steve Rogers and not Captain America for a change.

"Let me get that for you, Captain Rogers," the doorman says with a nod.

"Thanks, Charlie," he answers with a smile.

"Is Ms. Romanoff expecting you?"

The guy's friendly question makes Steve blush with a smile. "I hope so, or I'm gonna look pretty stupid."

Unlike the ride up the night before, the elevator seems to drag. Steve's palms sweat from the heat of the coffee. He manages to knock on the door and chuckles softly when Natasha opens it in her robe, ruffling her damp hair with a towel.

"Hey, you," she says in the smoky tone that does a number on his heart rate. Leaning against the doorframe, she smiles anything but innocently.

His eyebrows lift and he lowers his mouth to hers with a soft growl. The kiss is lingering and he only pulls back when he realizes he can't hold her. "You're not dressed."

Natasha's laugh is flirty as she closes the door and follows Steve into her kitchen. "Well, soldier, someone wouldn't tell me where we were going." She takes the bag from him and sets it aside before standing on tiptoe to greet him properly.

A groan passes his lips as his arms wrap securely around her. Deep, wet and hungry, she kisses him the way she's wanted to since her eyes fluttered open and she found herself alone.

"You play dirty," he hushes against her mouth. "Get dressed. Jeans and comfortable shoes. I'll make breakfast."

\- - - Captain America - - -

An hour later, the pair stumble out her door. They're almost like teenagers in the way they stick close to one another, desperate for simple contact. It's a feeling neither is used to and both find it intoxicating. Hands tangled, they share a soft kiss waiting for the elevator.

"Seriously," she says, tipping her head. Her green eyes flash with excitement and he shares her smile. "Where are we going?"

His thumb strokes the apple of her cheek and his grin spreads when her lips caress his palm. "It's a surprise. Now, give me your car keys."

Natasha's mouth drops when Steve lifts his hand. He looks a little too pleased with himself and as much as she wants to hate it, the confidence turns her on. When she doesn't answer, he backs her against the wall. His hand slips under the edge of her shirt and he leans into her. "The keys, Natasha," his command is raw. "We could take the bike, but..."

She's holding her breath, unsure of where this is going and what he'll do next. He pauses until her eyes open and meet his. Her teeth dig into her lip and she clings to his shoulders. His voice is low. "The car will be more comfortable."

Curiosity killed the cat and Natasha starts to wonder if she's about to die in Steve's arms. "I dunno, Rogers," she tells him, withdrawing the keys from her pocket. "Sounds suspicious."

"Is this a mission or a date, _Romanoff_?" he answers, leading her to the passenger door of the corvette. Pinning her hips to the side of the vehicle with his own, he leans close and whispers against the shell of her ear. "If I told you I made a bucket list and that making out with you in this car," he smiles at her shiver before continuing, "was on it, would you give me this one?"

When he pulls away, there's a definite blush on the spy's cheeks. Steve doesn't kiss her. He could, but leaving her with the anticipation is so much better. He helps her into the sleek sports car before making his way to the driver's side.

The tires peel as he slips onto the DC street. Natasha grips the doorframe wondering why he's driving so fast until she sees the quinjet lowering its tailgate. "This isn't funny, Steve."

"And I'm not laughing," he answers. The console lights up and she blinks rapidly as the soldier talks to an all too familiar face. "Hey, Barton? I'm at your six and we've only got clearance for another three minutes."

"Put her in neutral, Cap. I'll take it from here," the archer's lips twitch and Natasha braces herself as the car slides into the cargo hold. The men continue to banter. "I can get you about 20 minutes out."

"Roger that, Clint," Steve answers, cutting the engine and settling in. He sets a timer on the dash and clears his throat. Natasha would swear he blushes as he reaches to disconnect the video link. "If you'll excuse us, I'm gonna grab a little alone time with my girl."

"Oh, boy. Eyes and ears off, Cap," he chuckles just before the screen fades to black. "Enjoy, Nat."

She isn't sure what to make of her friend playing a part in Steve's game, but she's too busy plotting ways to get back at both men to make too much of it. Starting with Steven Grant Rogers. There were many ways to level the playing field with her Captain, but only a handful she would consider whole Barton was within earshot for both their sakes.

"Who knew an old fossil could pull off a trick like that?" Natasha asks. Before Steve can answer, she's slipping over the console and straddling his lap. The sudden intake of breath tells her she's got him right where she wants him. "What's the matter soldier? I thought you wanted to make out."

Steve's hands caress up her thighs to her waist. He fusses with the diagonal zipper on her jacket and she leans forward to catch his mouth. Natasha isn't sure which is the bigger surprise - that it feels so right or that Steve has become an expert in her body. He knows where to touch, how soft or how hard. He follows the subtle cues, like change in breathing or the shift of her hips. It maddening and masterful.

They start soft and slow, building to a needy crescendo. Clothing peels away, lips become bruised and kiss swollen as skin flushes with arousal. The windows fog up as the air temperature inside the car rises.

She wanted to thrill him - to tease him beyond measure - but it doesn't happen that way. He's in charge and the way his hands explore the canvas of her back beneath her camisole as she jerks her arms free of the leather sleeves of her jacket says he knows it. His lips feather along her collarbone, teeth nipping delicately in a way that makes her arch back against the steering wheel.

"Steve..." It's almost a whimper, a prayer for the relief she didn't get last night. Her nails scrape along his neck and her fingers weave into his hair. Bending her neck back, she exposes her throat and the swell of her breasts to his affection. She undulates in his lap, hips rolling in time with panted breaths. Close. So close, but not nearly close enough.

"Natasha," he answers a little too easily. His breath is steady, it burns across her chest as he blazes a trail of sultry kisses. She's made a mess of his hair, pulling and tugging at the short strands until they stand at attention. Like something else. She knows he's affected. She can _feel_ it.

It's hot and heavy. And about to go past necking to heavy petting when the spell is broken by Clint's voice on the intercom. "If you two, _kids_, aren't decent, I suggest you get that way." There's a pause and Steve leans back in the seat, drawing a breath. "We'll be descending shortly."

As if on cue, the alarm goes off and Steve groans. She likes this look on him; the calm, mild mannered captain all worked up and frustrated. Blue eyes flash and Steve licks his lips slowly. "Do you trust me?" he asks.

She nods without hesitation and watches as he pulls a black silk scarf with red spiderwebs from his pocket. He doesn't tie the blindfold on right away, instead, he plucks at her lips softly, his fingertips stroking her cheeks. "You ready for our date, Nat?"

The plump petal of her lower lip catches beneath her teeth. Silk slides along Steve's palm and he watches as Natasha eases back into the passenger seat. The tailgate begins to open and she hurries to give him one last kiss before tying the blindfold in place. "Ready as I'm gonna be..."

Steve folds his hand around hers and shifts the car into reverse. They leave the back of the plane and spin 180 degrees on an quiet little airstrip, the quinjet roaring back into the sky. Adrenaline rushes through their veins and he lifts her hand to his lips as they race along the tarmac. "Almost there. Won't be long now."

* * *

**A/N:** I originally thought to make this one extra long chapter, but she was right... that would've been too much. It also would've caused a longer delay.

Where do you think Steve is taking Natasha? Will the date go as planned?


End file.
